Corrigenda
by Theayonder
Summary: It was supposed to be a salt and burn; easy enough to do on the run. Of course – nothing ever came easy for John Winchester. Nor his sons. (Another Father fic...)
1. Wayward Son

_**CORRIGENDA**_

 **I.** _ **Ab Initio**_

* * *

 **THEN**

 **Thunderbird Diner  
Adams, Massachusetts **

**1987**

It was supposed to be a salt and burn; easy enough to do on the run. He'd been gone for almost three days now tracking the thing that had killed Mary when the trail went cold. Thankfully the boys weren't with him this time around. He'd left them in Bobby's most capable hands; promising to return after the week was up.

Of course – nothing ever came easy for John Winchester.

The trail had led him to Massachusetts and an old farmhouse that locals deemed unsafe. Strange things always happened there but no one could recall exactly what. People would go there sometimes and while some said that it was just a spooky, abandoned lot of land with nothing to see. While others were seen going there and never came back. Reading over reports and articles from the local library; John thought he was dealing with a creature instead of a ghost.

"This is fantastic."

The older Winchester who was tucking into a dinner of steak and potatoes eyed the redhead who had spoken. He sucked in a breath; the woman was a hell of a looker. Gorgeous auburn locks that hung to her elbows, dark green sweater dress, legs that went for days and eyes that reminded him painfully of Mary. Her English accent threw him for a loop; what was a Brit doing out here in the middle of nowhere in November?

As it turned out Lily Evans was here visiting with her friend and someone had suggested them see Mount Greylock. Adams was the closest town. Alice Selwyn eyed him something strange but the pair seemed to take him with a grain of salt.

Of course; that all changed when the duo of women somehow helped him with the creature problem. Who knew things such as Puckwudgies actually existed? After some bruising, danger and evading being tortured by one fugly thing; John was thankful for the women he'd talked up in the diner. Thankfully he'd had his fill of Lily Evans. That blush she had was something exciting and had him dreaming of strawberry rhubarb pie all the way back to the Singer Salvage Yard.

 **\- 01. Wayward Son -**

 **11 YEARS LATER…  
**

 **Singer Salvage Yard  
** **Sioux Falls, SD**

"Well," Bobby Singer rumbled as he took another chug of beer. "You've got a choice to make. You open it or you don't."

The dark haired man in front of him barely moved. The pair sat in the kitchen of Bobby's home; a table between them. It had been barely six hours since the eldest Winchester had returned from a solo hunting trip tracking down another ghoul two states West of Sioux Falls. The moment Bobby got the envelope he'd called John and told him to get down for his mail. The Hunter was no mail delivery service.

Their quiet revolved around the rectangular piece of paper between them.

 _John Winchester_

 _c/o Singer Salvage Yard_

 _Sioux Falls, SD_

The hunter it was addressed to saw the childish scrawl upon the face of the white envelope buried in an inordinate amount of postage stamps. How it even managed to even get to Bobby's mailbox without a proper address confounded the old mechanic. It also made him paranoid. Something he had told John in no uncertain terms.

With a quiet sigh, the older Winchester reached for the envelope. In a single motion, using the pen knife he had on him at all times, he opened it. Ending not only his misery in procrastinating reading the damn thing but also Bobby's who was getting annoyed at the idiot in front of him.

The content of the letter was simply astounding. As he read, John's face seemed to pale and drain of colour. His eyebrows furrowed and he took on a dark look often reserved for something more violent.

 _Dear Mr. John Winchester,_

 _My name is Harry Potter. I am eleven. My mother left me your name and mailing address in a journal she left for me. She said to contact you to let you know who I was. She said she sent you a letter. She said she sent it to you years ago before I was born but you never wrote back. I hope you will make an exception. I am writing you because I would like to request time to stay with you this summer. It would just be for a couple of weeks, I will not cost much to feed or house me. I have money she and my dad James left for me after they died that I can use to keep me. I will stay out of your way or help with chores or something. My relatives are not the most pleasant sort. I would also like to get to know you as well. I know this is a strange request but I would very much like to get away from here. Please if you could write me back I would appreciate it._

 _I have attached an already to post envelope that you can drop off at any mail box and it shall get to me. At least that is what the mail clerk told me. I do look forward to hearing from you soon. Please write back!_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Harry Potter_

Without looking, John ignored the glass of Jack in front of him and went directly for the bottle he had kept to the side. He dropped the letter he had just finished reading on the table. He pushed it towards his friend looking ill. He normally didn't trust anyone with things like this. He was a paranoid, wildly private man after all. Bobby was a friend, almost a brother and was trusted. The other man took a glance at the letter.

Without speaking both took another drink before looking once more at the innocuous piece of paper.

"How long did you know?" Bobby asked.

"Ten years."

"Idjit," was the crotchety, standard response. "You didn't know she was gone?"

"First time to know about it," John sighed. Looking at his friend, he started digging into the hidden pocket of his jacket. "Here."

Bobby took the faded item he'd been handed. It was an image of a baby, a boy, in diapers staring up at the camera with bright green eyes and flyaway black hair. The hair was similar to the type sported by John himself. On the back was faded feminine writing.

 _Harry James Potter, 15 mos._

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know Bobby." John said. "The boys don't know either. Lily, Harry's mom, wrote me twice. Once to let me know she was expecting and the second in response to a letter I sent her asking her about the boy. She sent me that picture and told me in that second letter not to contact them anymore. What the hell was I supposed to do? Money was tight, if I was going to get on a plane to go to a whole different country seeking out my son when it's obvious his mother is not giving me the choice to be part of his life. Who am I to interfere? I thought he was happy."

There was more drinking.

"You are a bastard Winchester," Bobby replied. "Kid sounds like he hates home."

"What am I supposed to do about this? I don't have a stable address, your place being an exception. I can barely give Dean and Sam the stability they most likely need in their youth. That yellow-eyed beast is still out there doing whatever the fuck it wants. Bringing another kid into that mix? I – I really don't want to bring another one of my offspring into this mess." John growled.

"Then keep it in your pants next time." Bobby muttered. "Look, just respond to the boy. Get him to specify why his relatives aren't _pleasant_ then make your decision from there. Tell the boys. They'd want to know."

The darker haired man took a deep breath in feeling lost inside. His life was no life for a kid. Pleasant or not, the kid had a stable home life and that was worth its weight in gold. Fucking up another kid's life was something he didn't want to do.

Without speaking to Bobby, John packed the envelope and the image into the pocket of his jacket. He took another sip from the bottle of Jack, nodded to his friend and walked away.

"John," Bobby called. "John!"

It was too late by the time Bobby followed him out. John Winchester out of the door and to the Impala to head back to the hotel he had left his boys at about an hour from Bobby's place. The other hunter watched the brunet male go – eyes following the dust of the car leave in the distance. He sighed.

"Moron."

 **3 YEARS LATER…  
**

 **Non-descript Motel  
** **Idaho Falls, ID**

Dean needed air. So he took the nearest jacket to him as he escaped into the night outside the motel room. He nearly went back in when he realized he'd gotten his dad's jacket which was similar to his own. Deciding it didn't matter, the old man was wasted.

John had fallen asleep after knocking back some Miller, Jack and Jose. It was like an after hunt ritual. Usually Dean would get cleaned up some before hitting the town looking to get laid so he didn't have to stay at the hotel. Since Sam had left nearly eight weeks ago for Stanford, John had become colder than normal. Whatever, man after this the pair were going to Bobby's to get a new car. Even though no car could ever replace the Impala; he loved that thing.

Standing outside, it was cold, a blustery December night in Idaho. He would have wanted to remain in doors but the Podunk town they were in didn't have a proper pub. Breathing in the cool air, Dean looked oddly at his chest. There was this heavy weight from the pocket of the jacket his dad wore. Normally he wouldn't have taken his dad's things. He had his own jacket but out of spite; he'd done it. He was still pissed off at John about Sammy.

That thought in mind, Dean quietly and quickly snooped at his dad's jacket. What he found was an interesting.

Two pictures; one Dean recognized as him and Sam. The other was a kid named Harry. Recognizing the kid's eyes since he saw them every day in the mirror – Dean was frozen in realization. No way, no fucking way this was happening. He marched back into the hotel room. He looked at his passed out father while looking at the picture of the kid. The similarities were too close. He wanted to shake his father awake and confront him about these images.

He shrugged off the offending clothing he'd taken and replaced the pictures. He was upset. If Sammy was around he'd be upset to. Of course the word "upset" was too light a term to describe exactly what he was feeling given the discovery.

He lay in bed at that point, not seeing and not sleeping as he stared listlessly at the ceiling above him. He'd been hunting with his dad for as long as he could remember. You'd think family should know about each other. This Harry kid; he could be Sam's age or even younger.

Morning came in grey and quick. Dean hadn't slept a wink. So when John started rousing himself awake with a migraine; he hadn't felt bad for plonking coffee for his father to consume. He also didn't feel too bad for closing the passenger door more forcefully than usual on the Impala.

It took miles of road but as the Impala reached the familiar mechanic's dream yard; Dean brought up the pictures.

"Were you ever going to tell us about Harry?" Dean asked with finality as the Impala came to a halt. The look on his father's face was more than enough of an answer. "How long have you known about him?"

John remained silent.

"Does Bobby know?" Another look and the pit in Dean's stomach grew wider. He knew his dad wasn't perfect. Hell the past sixteen years of his life was spent in dive hotels, bars, taking orders and taking out evil spirits. It was only recently that dad was giving Dean more freedom to do whatever he wanted. Normal was something of a fantasy. The one thing the eldest Winchester was apart from the slight mischief he liked to cause at times was be pragmatic.

He wasn't going to get straight answers through his dad. Look at what happened with Sammy. While he loved his dad and his brother; Dean knew. His dad was not going to own up to the mess their lives became since Yellow Eyes took it all away. The eldest Winchester brother escaped the confines of the car just as John put the vehicle into park. Dean had kept his bag with him, something he normally wouldn't do. There wasn't enough space for his bag and his nearly 6'1 frame in the cramping passenger seat. Yet there he was duffle in hand and pounding up the stairs of Bobby's house.

"Bobby, do you know about Harry?"

The red haired hunter took one look at Dean's flushed face and cast a disappointed glare at the eldest Winchester.

"Yeah," Bobby nodded. "I knew. Come inside so we can get this powwow over with."

Betrayal of trust: it was something that John Winchester seemed to be good at.

 **2 HOURS LATER** …

 **Front Door  
** **Singer Salvage Yard  
** **Sioux Falls, SD**

The Impala remained in Bobby's drive as John got the keys to another truck his old friend had on the lot. He passed on the keys of the Chevy to Dean. He left about a minute past midnight. Stopping for a bit of gas as he raced his way to a job he'd picked up just before getting to Bobby's in Michigan. Dean watched as his dad left, green eyes filled with unspeakable emotion.

He felt a clap on his shoulder as something cold pressed upon his bicep. Unblinkingly he saw the bottle of beer and the rough look on Bobby's face. Without speaking he took the bottle and followed the older man into the home. Bobby sighed. "Come on, I gotta show you something."

Dean gulped down the first bit of beer. No need to keep the old hunter waiting. Following the russet haired hunter to the study he shrugged off his jacket. Effortlessly the young man switched the bottle of beer from one hand to another, before chucking the article on the back of one of the chairs. He slumped into the seat. Distracted from the present state of his family life, Dean was thankful for one thing. He had always been good at compartmentalizing his feelings. He had had to. John wasn't into feelings and Sam was far too sensitive at times that it made him crazy. So Bobby telling him he had things to show him helped ease up some of the excess emotion he had inside.

"Here, I figure since you now know – you can do something about these. They've stopped coming though since about June and the kid's pretty religious about having this sent out here at least once a month even though he hasn't had a reply. I haven't received anything yet for December." Bobby said as he placed a blue Rubbermaid bin in front of Dean. "If you're going to be up for a while, you know what to do. I'm going to go catch me some sleep. It's been a long ass night."

The twenty-three year old man stared at the bin. With shaking hands he popped open the lid and was nearly flummoxed by the sheer amount. There were nearly a hundred envelopes, all of them sealed and in varying types of paper. Some even looked like they were made from parchment. Dean nearly whistled; he'd have to hand it to the kid. Persistence and stubborn Winchester pride.

Seeing that one of the envelopes was open; he started from there.

 _Dear Mr. John Winchester,_

 _My name is Harry Potter. I am eleven._

 **THE NEXT DAY**

 **Singer Salvage Yard  
** **Sioux Falls, SD**

He opened his eyes, feeling the grit there and the pounding headache thereafter. He must have spent most of the night reading the letters his brother had sent. He tried to keep things neat, making sure that nothing was out of place. Harry didn't have the best penmanship but the kid tried. Somehow, along the way his youngest brother wormed his way into the place where Dean's heart rested. He wanted to curse his dad.

"Here." Dean saw Bobby plonk down a cup of dark liquid in front of him. Rubbing his eyes and stretching tense muscles, the young man thanked the older hunter for the drink. "So? What's he like?"

"He's a right old chip from off the block," Dean replied. "He's gotten into more shit away from us than either Sam or I did growing up. His relatives are assholes and I wish I could find a way to get over there to help him. I just don't get why dad would leave the kid hanging." Dean whispered. "He even says here that he hates his folks at home."

Bobby shrugged. "I don't know either. Your daddy's got reasons but they're probably stupid. You've been careful at least.

Bobby sat across from Dean and saw that the boy had opened most of the envelopes already. "He sent dad a scarf from his school. Something to do with his house – whatever the hell that means – and a weird mood changing ball; do you still have them?"

The older hunter nodded. "I'll get them later. Tell me is the kid good?"

"He's got more angst than Sam." Dean muttered. "But at least he's got a sense of humour. I've got about ten more of his stuff to read before I can even think of sending him a reply back."

The pair sat in the silence as Dean drank his coffee and looked over the envelopes. His lips were pursed as he quickly reviewed what he knew about his youngest brother so far. The most stand out being – the kid was a wizard – a wand-wielding, bonafide wizard. Looking up at the crusty hunter in front of him, Dean made up his mind. Pulling the letter that had held that information, he pushed it towards Bobby.

"Before you judge this letter," Dean said. "Some background – the kid just found out about his godfather being a mass murderer."

The hunter stared at the younger man before snatching the parchment he'd been given.

 _John,_

 _I have no idea if you read any of these. Seeing as you've been silent for the past couple of years, I'll take that as a no. I'm going to school soon. Guess what, it's a magic school – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I fucking don't care anymore if you read this or not. I don't even care if it goes against the Statute. Honestly, you've been less of a father to me than James was and he's currently resting in a graveyard in a place called Godric's Hollow. Look at that, more information for you. I'm not crazy. If you're not John, then you can just say that I am. It must be hard being a father of a kid you don't want anything to do with. Reason why I'm even writing this is because of bloody Black. This bastard's after me and it's not as if my life isn't ass over backwards already. In case someone cared. Whoever owns or runs Singer Salvage Yard is probably getting their secretary to chuck these letters in a bi somewhere. Whatever, same procedure applies. Send a reply with the envelope._

 _H_

Together, Dean and Bobby spent the next couple of days sorting out the remaining letters that had been coming to Bobby's Salvage Yard for the past three and a half years.

 **NOW**

 **Great Hall**

 **Hogwarts, UK**

The morning mail arrived as it usually did. Over at Gryffindor table, a pale boy with dark hair and bright green eyes picked at his porridge wondering what the hell he was going to do about the Tournament. He ignored the bushy haired brunette badgering him to eat more and the carrot top boy at his side arguing in his defense. He had far too many thoughts in his mind to truly pay attention or care anymore. Of course, that all changed when a hasty brown owl dropped an envelope overhead.

Harry James Potter frowned as he took the A4 envelope from said owl. He stared at the familiar writing and the stamp affixed on the corner. He had to blink a few times because it was just a lot to take in.

"Harry?" Hermione said his name. Harry blinked owlishly up at her before nodding.

"You know I think I left something in the tower, see you in class." He didn't give them a moment to reply. He whirled out of the bench he sat in, taking with him his school materials. He had no intention of going to the tower. It had been an obvious ruse to get away from what was going to be far too much attention on his family secret. A secret he thought not even Dumbledore knew about. Something he was secretly pleased with. He speedily walked through the corridors before reaching the door of his first class. No one was in Transfiguration when he finally sat down at his usual place. With quiet vigour Harry ripped into the envelope; a mass of emotion.

In neat capital letters he read his own name.

 _Harry,_

 _Some life you've got there. I'm Dean Winchester, your older brother. Just found out about you and read over your letters. Sorry bud we couldn't have been there for some of the shite you've been through. If you need anything, call me. My number's below. I hate writing things so, yeah, talk to me whenever you can._

 _Dean_

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_** See my profile for standard disclaimer. For background info (but not necessary) will be mostly S1 - S5 for SPN and somewhat AU for HP with some canon thrown into the mix. Hopefully you like this so far. Thoughts about the content in the form of a review is greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading, let's see where this fic will take us shall we? Also since I'm not English from across the pond; my slang and verbiage is going to be atrocious. You've been forewarned.

 _ **Edit February 26, 2017:**_ I just realized that this now going to take elements from all seasons of SPN thus far, as well as parts of Cursed Child and Fantastic Beasts. I also just finished writing a pretty emotional scene that's going to wrap this section up. Additionally, I know the pairings now. Mostly het but hints of slash if you squint. Also tidied this chapter up. There was a line about trojans I took out because it just did not flow with the story. Thanks for reading! Moving on.


	2. Only the Young

**THEN**

 **Gringotts  
** **London, UK**

Watching Hagrid empty his pockets on the counter of the bank – a wizarding bank – had been an eye-opener for eleven year old Harry. They were currently in the bank, a magical bank, run by beings with leathery skin and piercing unnatural eyes.

As Hagrid held up a tiny golden key that would unlock his vault (a vault!) Harry wondered if he could keep it. After all, the money was his right?

The ride down to his vault when it came to it had been wild. He had never felt more alive. As they flew past the different types of rock, the green eyed boy saw stalactites and stalagmites that grew from the ceiling and floor. He knew one of them stood for the direction they sprouted from. He just wasn't sure. Turning to the only adult apart possibly from the goblin (who didn't seem to be in a talking mood) Harry asked Hagrid for the difference. A spelling difference was still a difference so Harry let it drop. He would look it up at the library sometime this summer. Privately he thought Hagrid lost a year on his life because he looked pale and shaky when the cart stopped. Griphook, the goblin remained all business and professionalism.

When he saw the gold, the young boy nearly choked on his spit. Gold in mounds, columns of silver and heaps of little bronze coins scattered all over this chamber. This tiny piece of history he never had before. If he hadn't taken the few seconds to scan the area (as he was prone to doing in any place new) he would have missed it. There was something under that pile of gold and silver, a corner of a – notebook? Harry stepped inside his vault to inspect the item with Hagrid following after him.

"Let's get some of this lot into this," Hagrid said as he held out a bag. "Huh, that's interestin'. Didn't know you could put somethin' like that into a vault like this. But no matter put that in 'ere."

Harry nodded as he placed his finding (it was a book – more like a leather-bound journal with an odd star like symbol on the front) into the bag Hagrid stretched out. The bag itself was the size of a grocery bag. Hagrid grinned as he helped the eleven-year-old understand the monetary system. The math was strange to the boy. Seventeen silver sickles made up the equivalent to a Galleon (which was the gold coin) and twenty-nine of the bronze coins, Knuts, to a sickle. It wasn't easy enough to a boy used to a system that counted money up in simple fives and tens. Again Harry figured he'd figure things out as he went along.

"Will the book be alright in there?"

"O' course," exclaimed Hagrid. "It's yers isn't it? Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh."

Harry felt crest fallen. "Oh. Hagrid, do you have to keep my key?"

The giant man looked down at him with a thoughtful look. "Well now't, yer not quite the age of majority to keep it."

The eleven-year-old felt slightly indignant at that point and looked up at the giant man. Harry was used to taking after himself and sometimes after his relatives also. He had never understood that he had a "puppy-dog look". He had always been ignored at home too much. It never occurred to him how potent or effective his gaze was.

"Now yeh – er – don't go tellin' people about this." Hagrid said finally, Harry acted like a brilliant kid with more sense than none at all. So, before they left for another dizzying ride through Gringotts' tunnels, Hagrid gave him a cord of leather he procured from one of his many pockets. He helped the younger boy loop the cord through the key so it could form a sort of necklace. It would do for now and thankfully could be hidden beneath his shirt. The eleven year-old vowed internally to never to take it off from that time forward.

As they sped through the goblin tunnels towards the vault Hagrid had official business with. Harry just had to breathe in the experience of it all. Magical; he was magical and he was going to be part of a magical world.

The reality of his life finally began as he bought extra things just for himself. Things he knew he needed and wanted because he never had them truly before. Anything he had was given to him by the Dursleys from the broken army man in his cupboard he named Arnold to the spiders that hung about the corners of his bed. The only true scrap of thing he owned was a faded baby blanket with his initials in the corner. It was the only thing he had arrived in his aunt had said.

Hagrid who thought the shopping would take a little shorter was surprised by how many things Harry insisted he needed. It was curious the boy would purchase extra pants, extra shirts and an extra pair of shoes after his fitting at Madam Malkins. He did blink when Harry selected a messenger bag that was much bigger on the inside and a lighting spell so that the weight of the bag was disguised. This had been purchased alongside a trunk that the lad insisted needed a shrinking feature. Hagrid didn't know it then although he had a feeling as he dropped the boy off home; Harry James Potter was up to something.

The child in question didn't even notice Hagrid's casual yet thoughtful glance at his retreating back.

 **\- 02. Only the Young -**

 **THEN**

 **Healing Wing  
** **Hogwarts, UK**

He woke to the whispering around him. There was Professor McGonagall, the Weasleys, Hermione, Neville and even Fudge. There was big kerfuffle and the passing of the winnings from the Tri-wizard Tournament. He shouted some against the leader of the magical government about what he had seen in the graveyard. Yet, he wasn't to be believed.

After a while and plenty of loud, angry discussion – there was a numbness constricted about his chest. "I don't want that gold," he said. "I have enough." He pleaded to Mrs. Weasley to those around his bed that anyone else can have it but everyone was silent. He tried to ignore their eyes and wished Ron would look away.

Then he was pulled into an embrace. Mrs. Weasley just wrapped her arms around him. The warmth, the comfort – things that were foreign to him swept through his brokenness. It was as if everything he had seen crashed through his brain. His parents, Cedric's listless eyes and everything Voldemort did. There in that woman's grasp he fought tightly against the despair threatening to explode.

A loud bang and both of them broke apart to stare at the bushy haired girl by the window. She looked up at them with a slight, uncomfortable shrug and whispered apology. Shortly thereafter, he took another potion and fell into blissful slumber.

 **THEN**

 **Quidditch Pitch  
** **Gryffindor Stands  
** **Hogwarts, UK**

He loved it out here, surrounded by empty seats and wide open sky above him. Four days. It had been exactly four days since he'd come back from the graveyard in Little Hangleton. The pitch was finally empty and quiet. No one was practicing or flying about all over. In fact they should still be in the Great Hall eating dinner. Something he hadn't wanted to begin with. Of course, when he saw the familiar tall stride of the lanky brunet born a day before him, he nearly ran away. Of course, that gave him time to hide the leather-bound journal he had had on his lap reading into the messenger bag he never left lying around.

"Hey mate, brought you a sandwich." Neville Longbottom said finally. Harry looked up at him with an unreadable expression. It had been about four days since the Tournament was declared over.

"Oh," Harry sighed. "Thanks."

Neville nodded and sat beside him. They looked across the pitch in silence, two fifteen-year-old boys forced to grow up a little too quick. It wasn't long before the lanky boy pulled out a squashy brown paper package. "Got Dobby to make us some sandwiches, I figured you may not want to be around too many people."

Harry took the package with a quick nod of thanks. Pastrami, swiss cheese and whole wheat bread greeted his senses. Excellent choice for what he was feeling. The green-eyed young man said as much to Neville who pulled out his own brown paper bagged sandwich. The pair sat chewing in silence feeling the light summer breeze through the stands.

"Ron and Hermione; they seem worried mate. I told them you'd be fine. The twins distracted them of course by getting them into an argument over nothing." The thoughtful Longbottom heir explained.

"Hm," grunted Harry softly.

They sat there eating their sandwiches looking at the empty pitch. The tallest of the pair knew that sooner or later his friend would tell him what was wrong in time. While usually this would be something Ron or Hermione would have undertaken – over the course of the past year – Neville had come into his own as Harry's friend.

"It's strange," Neville whispered quietly. "How things can change in a year."

Harry chuckled grimly. "I suppose, what do you reckon has changed?"

The thoughtful look that crossed Neville's face was enough to ensure that Harry would get an even reply back. It was comforting to know the boy beside him had had his back. A while ago, they had barely exchanged more than a few sentences of greeting or passing notes about regarding schoolwork. Apart from the pranks and odd times of taking the piss of each other (especially when Ron was snoring) – their friendship was good but not close.

Then the Tournament happened. The fallout with Ron who had been so immature and jealous was enough for Harry to see his redheaded friend's true colours. While he still talked to the redhead and joked around; he had been extremely hurt by the other boy's actions. In a way his trust had been broken. Harry felt he couldn't have that same friendship again. Even after nearly four years of life-endangering situations. He had had enough shite to deal with. Luckily the redhead got his head out of his ass for the most part. They would never have the same sort of trust as before. Perhaps, it was a little bit more certain.

"I think," Neville began which disrupted Harry's thoughts. "Some of the changes you've seen were actually always there to begin with. That's not a comforting thought. However, I admire your for dealing with things the way you've done so thus far. While we may not have been close these past few years, I am honoured you consider me a friend. That's my personal opinion."

Harry didn't smile per se but there was a ghost of a smirk if one squinted closely.

"Nev, you've got a pair of balls." Harry muttered finally, taking one last bite from his sandwich.

The other male reddened while shrugging shyly. It was true, everything he had said. He had seen the droop in Harry's shoulders since he'd gotten out of the hospital wing. No one believed that the Dark Lord had risen again. It wasn't a joke, Neville could tell. His dorm mate seemed so downcast. The pair sat there for another fifteen minutes, eating their sandwiches and looking over the pitch. Both were not in a hurry to go back to the castle but since dusk was quickly settling over the school. The duo quickly made it back towards Gryffindor Tower. No one really made too much a fuss over it as both Harry and Neville quickly got their nightly routines settled. Harry kept his messenger bag where he had been keeping it over the past few years. Beneath his pillow, strap neatly tucked inside. It had been his very first personal purchase since getting into the magical world.

He didn't really want to fall asleep yet he couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to the letter tucked away in the leather-bound journal inside his bag. It had been another missive from his brother Dean. He had about five such letters since December. Each letter was like a raindrop to his parched soul.

 _Harry,_

 _What the hell? You have never heard of good old rock and roll? Dude, your country generated Zeppelin! I took the liberty sending you this list of music you better listen to. It's vital to know these things. Good for the soul and your mind, apart from pie. What the hell is Treacle Tart anyway? Also when are you going to get a phone? Remember to call once you're near a phone and watch for the time difference._

 _Dean_

Harry never had a brother before. The closest he had at one point were the Weasleys. No matter how much he wanted to deceive himself, he knew that despite how welcoming they were of him, the past four years of jumpers Mrs. Weasley had sent to him a testament of that. Harry knew that they weren't really "his"; at least that was before the Weasley matriarch made him feel more comfort than anyone had before.

While on the topic of parents; he recalled the letter he sent to John shortly after finding out about Sirius. He winced. He had been maddeningly angry when he had sent that. Here he was looking for family and no one had responded to him. Not once did John Winchester write back. He wondered what Dean must have thought if he had read that particular piece of rage.

His older brother had asked him in his second lettered response if he had made any deals with any black eyed people for magic. When Harry said no and that the only black eyed creatures he had seen were the goblins; he'd received a strange slip of paper and instructions on warding one's self from demons. It took Harry about a week researching the legitimacy of the stuff Dean had sent him while hiding out from Hermione under the pretense of figuring out what to do for the Second Task.

He still felt like he was in some dream waiting to wake up. Out there, across the Atlantic he actually had family. It was Lily's secret and for good reason if he had anything to go by in her notes. He had a dad, a half-brother named Dean and another half-brother named Sam. Things he learned from Dean's short letters. His older brother really seemed to hate writing although he had responded five times already.

Huh, that sounded nice: older brother. He, Harry James Potter, had an older brother. Well he had two of them except apparently Sam wasn't clued in yet. He wondered what Sam was like and wondered if Dean would pass him along a letter for him to him. He trusted Dean. Trusted and believed in him more so than the father that had seemingly abandoned him here in the UK. Right, with this thought in mind, Harry fell asleep.

 **NOW  
** **Little Whinging, UK**

"I'm going out." Harry called over his shoulder as he left through the front door. The dishes and garden had been done for that morning. Aunt Petunia gave him a nasty look before he left. Harry shrugged. He had his faithful messenger bag on his person, his wand tucked firmly into a holster inside of it for easy access. He had on jeans, red t-shirt and his favourite work boots. Indeed, he was growing up from the weedy and doe-eyed kid of eleven and many folks in the town were noticing it especially, some of the girls his age (and a few that were older).

Despite the grumbling rumours that their nephew was insane – no one could stop the boy from working since he was cheap and actually really good. Despite being seen as scruffy around the shoulders and seemingly unkempt: seventy-five percent of the neighbourhood realized the Dursleys were the ones who should be locked up.

From the time in memoriam; Harry had taken to working odd jobs around the community. He started doing this when he was nine and realized the Dursleys were never truly looking out for him. So, in a fit of inspiration and desperation he decided to help with people's lawns, walking their pets or generally fixing things. After all he was always gardening for Aunt Petunia so why not help other people out while earning something on the side.

After a while seventy-five percent of the neighbours (half of whom were over the age of fifty-nine) were charmed by the scrawny boy with too baggy clothes. Some of them donated a couple of items for him to wear (for work purposes only) to the disgruntlement of the Dursleys. Mind, those that did like Harry outside the disgusting rumours his relatives fed to the idiots of the block. There were more people on the look-out for the ebony haired, green eyed child than he even realized.

In fact the more passive-aggressive neighbours took it upon themselves to backhandedly insult Petunia's baking or Vernon's temper. As well as discussing how unbecoming it was of a young man like Dudley to be bullying children half his age. Some of the little girls, teens and a couple of college age girls – once they realized how handsome Harry was becoming – would determine they always had work for him to do. Something that made parents sigh or their friends giggle like mad.

Overall, while he was neglected to the point of abuse at home – his entire community had silently and secretly supported him through his childhood. Mind, no one could really do anything about his situation when he didn't talk much about it directly with others at all. Still, after fixing a rickety gate and fixing a few lightbulbs Harry felt grateful for the business he had established in his youth.

"Thank you for fixing that gate. I swear I would have hurt my hip again just because it was so uneven. And as you know Bertram is not at his best. I am so glad you are back again dear for the holidays. Ever since you've returned I have felt a touch better already! Bertram he said to pass you this for all your effort. You know the man doesn't like to say it himself, here you are. You take care now, it is quite hot." Mrs. Davenport from Number 11 Wisteria Lane gave the boy a gentle smile.

"Thank you Mrs. Davenport ("Yolanda dear! Please!"); I'll be seeing you and Bertram soon. Tell him that I'll let him win at our next match." Harry grinned with a quiet nod.

"Oh pish posh," the older lady groaned. "The man has not a strategic chess bone in his body. Although, it's good he's got you to keep him on his toes when you come about. Don't be a stranger now! I hear Betsy Campbell down by Wisteria Walk needs some help with some of Arabella's cats again."

Harry groaned to the older lady's teasing giggle. "I'll have to check on it possibly tomorrow. I am going into town today to do some looking about."

"Is that so dear?" Yolanda asked with merriment in her gaze.

"Yes," Harry nodded. "A friend of mine has her birthday in August and I planned on getting her something."

"Oh really, does this friend have a name?" The elderly woman grinned.

"Er, it's getting late," Harry stammered realizing too late his mistake. The older woman gave him a look. "Ginny, her name's Ginny. Uh, have a good day Mrs. Davenport – er – Yolanda!"

The elder woman waved him off, saying good-bye dear before watching him go down the street towards the local bus stop. She looked fondly after his back. She must tell Betsy Campbell whose daughters Lydia (12) and Katie (10) were completely in love with the boy that he was no longer on the market. She did love that boy and she hustle back inside with a jovial grin.

Meanwhile, Harry made it to the stop in front of the little park near Magnolia Crescent. His plan was simple. He was heading into town and checking out some of the second-hand shops. He needed to find a place that had an older model mobile phone (because magic affected most electronics) and a music player so he could listen to the music Dean suggested. There were a couple of things he wanted to get too but would take a trip on the Knight Bus to complete. He'd tried getting a hold of his friends via Hedwig but no one sent him back a response yet. He wondered at that but chalked it up to just getting back home.

He watched the scenery of the neighbourhood pass by. From the corner of his eye, he saw a kid run down the street. It was Mark Evans, the kid the Harrisons at 15 Magnolia Drive fostered. Looking as closely as he could; he saw a familiar figure. He squinted in anger. Bloody hell, his cousin was one sick pig. He'd have to do something about that.

 **1.5 HOURS LATER…**

 **Hawk Hill  
** **Greater Whinging, UK**

"There you go, full connectivity. Anything else you need?" Harry looked at the clerk and shook his head with a devil-may-care shrug.

"Thanks mate. I'm good for it." With another nod, he left the store looking at the bag he received. He made his way to the shopping centre's food court. He slunk into a seat while looking at the simple mobile he pulled out of the packaging. It seemed simple enough with numerical buttons. The phone was coloured navy with a silver rim around a greenish-grey screen. The brand of phone neatly marked across the front. It was simple, inexpensive and all he needed to call one of the five people he knew. Deciding to test out the tech, he followed the clerk's instructions of putting the phone on. He saw the two bars of phone battery life.

Opening the flap of his messenger bag, he took his mom's journal from the front pocket of the bag. He'd taken to carting it around with him everywhere and also began using parts of it for his own notes. Quickly seeing Hermione's number, he quickly used the machine in his hands and dialed it.

After the second ring he heard a familiar voice greet him. "Hello?"

"Hello Hermione," he said. "How are you?"

"What? Harry? Are you using a phone?"

Harry snorted. "Well what are you using?"

"This is amazing," Hermione seemed to ignore his sarcasm. "Are you roaming about as a muggle?"

"Yes, it's only been a few days but I figured I needed to hear a familiar voice." He replied. Even in the days following after Cedric's death his scattered memories were keeping him tightly wound.

"That's good." She murmured. "How are you holding up?"

"Well enough." He replied abruptly. "Er, 'Mione, I have to go. I'll call you around again sometime later this week?"

He hadn't meant to end that phrase sounding like a question. However, it seemed she sounded slightly disappointed when Harry spoke to her. "I am sorry Harry, I – I just got a letter. I'll be headed over to the Weasleys soon and possibly a safe house. That's the best way to describe it. My parents, they are headed over to Paris and Spain to visit some family friends. Er, I'm not going to be around for most of the summer."

"Oh."

There was a moment of awkward silence between them before Hermione wished good luck and that she would write to him when she could. Harry could only murmur 'it's alright, I suppose I'll be hearing from you soon' before hanging up. He stared at the phone with a frown.

Taking another breath he decided to get up and wander. The smell of food wafted through his nose. He decided he would get himself some fish and chips before he went to his next stop. He had traveled around both Little and Greater Whinging to know most of the stores in the area. He did it frequently since he got into Hogwarts to get away from his family. The furthest he had ever traveled was up to Hogwarts.

He got his order, sat down with his messenger bag, his food and gazed about him. He noticed the folks in the shopping centre and food court were going on about their daily lives. There was a man reading a book, a trench coat over his chair. There was a small family across the way eating and laughing. A group of girls wearing matching jeans and different coloured blouses giggling over something called Westlife. People were getting food, living. He wouldn't remember this moment. Not really, events at the graveyard up to when he was speaking to the Diggorys had left their mark upon him.

While he hated living with the Dursleys because of how their idea of normal was sugary sweet gossip that hid barb wired insults and chores that broke the back. For once he didn't feeling like complaining about his relatives. This past year had just opened his eyes how dangerous the world could be. Normal – it seemed – was a good break.

Finishing his meal, he dumped the remains into a nearby bin. He quickly took his leave of the shopping centre, heading down towards where he knew there was a nearby Pawnbroker. He felt pin pricks of his hair stand up on end. He was being followed. He kept his pace even, wondering who it could possibly be. He quietly gripped the strap of his bag with his left hand and gripped handle of his wand with his right through the front pocket of his bag where he had the holster.

As he entered the shop, the feeling of being watched went away. Despite the unease he entered the shop in, he quickly figured out what he needed. Soon he was the owner of a silver cassette Walkman with about five cassettes from bands on Dean's list. He wasn't sure how well it would work because the thing needed batteries. He decided to stop by a local shop that sold batteries that would run the item. Oh, he also got a couple of Mars bars as well. He still felt like he was being followed oddly enough and the sensation grew the closer he got to his neighbourhood. By the time the bus stopped it was now about six in the evening. He had been gone for most of the day. The ride at least was pleasant.

He was listening to a band called The Cars when he got off the bus. It was funny that they had a song called _Magic_. At least it was upbeat which went against his current mood. He abruptly stopped his new player when his sharp eyes saw a familiar boy panting. The boy had light brown hair messy, light eyes dark in mood and skinny body seemingly wanting to disappear within his grey hooded sweater. He approached cautiously, putting away the new electronic into his bag.

"Hey Mark." He greeted. The boy looked like he was about to get a black eye on the left side and his lip look like it was bloody split open. The kid turned away from him with a glare.

"What do you want freak?" He asked sullenly. Harry arched his eyebrows upwards.

"Nothing," The dark haired teen replied. "Just on my way home when I saw you out here."

"Great." The other kid scoffed. "Not like you bloody care."

Harry kept quiet. A quiet rage stole over him seeing the way Mark look. He had seen that look multiple times in the mirror at that age. Dudley was an asshole. Grade A, stuffed with dressing and an apple at the mouth.

"You know Dudley is a weird name for a guy right." Harry said. Mark looked up at him with a frown. "He's my cousin and all that but I think he's got the worst name on the planet. My aunt named him after my uncle's granddad or something like that."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"'Cos I've been there where you are," Harry replied. "You said it yourself I'm a freak. Sadly since I have been away, Dudders has been taking it out on all of you smaller than him. Bullies never play fair. Otherwise I'd be carrying those battle scars you're currently sporting."

Mark blinked up at him; startled when Harry tilted his head slightly to get a good look at the boy. The brunet shrugged. "I'm actually heading over to the Harrisons; Nathan and I are good friends since I sometimes help him out on some of his projects. You're welcome to accompany if you want. It's getting late."

The boy eyed him warily. "I'm good here, thanks."

Harry shrugged and walked off in the direction he said he was going. It didn't take long until he heard light scuffling behind him. From the corner of his eye, he saw the younger boy follow him. It didn't take long before they arrived at the Harrisons. Nathan was outside already putting away some of his gardening tools into a small wheelbarrow.

"Harry! Good to see you," the older man greeted (man was nearly forty-five and was still in great physical shape) with a wide smile on his scruffy, bearded face. Piercing blue eyes seemed to eye Harry from head to toe as if looking for signs. "Ah, Mark there you are. Was wondering where you went off to."

Sharp eyes probably noted the bent head of the boy who proudly walked towards the gate and nodded to his foster father without a word. Harry and Nathan shared a look. Mark raced into the house. Nathan's wife Sarah could be heard giving a faint greeting. The two other males remained outside.

"Dudley." Harry said. The other male had a stormy look on his face and Harry could see him clench the hands of the wheelbarrow.

Nathan nodded quietly. "You tell that cousin of yours if he goes about the way he does, he'll be on the receiving end of justice."

The dark haired boy with compassionate green eyes grunted in acknowledgment. "Night Nathan, it's good seeing you too. Tell Sarah I said hello. I'll be around." He didn't look back as he cut across the street towards home. The feeling of being watched continued. Pressing his lips together, tightening his bag – the teen wondered what the hell was happening and who the hell was watching him.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So this happened. I don't know how long this is going to be or when people meet. I have no idea if there will be pairings. I also have no idea if I'm too wordy on the backstory. That said, thank you for the reviews, follows and faves. Greatly appreciate it! :)


	3. Street Fightin' Man

**THEN**

 **Motel**  
 **Antioch, TN**

Supper was another slice of pizza, a bottle of beer and some poor cable television doing a re-run of an apple pie family sitcom. It was the sort of show he would never tell dad or Sam he watched. Not in a million years. Of course dad was still pissed off at him about Harry and Sam was communicating from Stanford. Thankfully, he had found a sweet spot in hunting lately. Not that anyone knew that's what he was doing. All they saw was a young guy going on a road trip.

Of course he wasn't paying attention to the godawful show. He was looking at the unopened envelope and brown paper package in his hands. Bobby was already complaining about not being a post office.

"Kid has atrocious writing." Dean muttered as he ripped the latest missive open. Harry had decided to use capitals now – which made it slightly easier to comprehend what he was writing. He smirked, not even five letters and already he was corrupting his younger brother. He took another sip of bear trying not to think about Sam.

 _Dean,_

 _Thanks for your last letter. I realized after reading it that you may be a bit uncomfortable with my whole magic thing. That said I did some research on the ritual you gave me. From where I am at, that particular trap is considered arcane dark magic. I have connections and a large library nearby at school. I now never sleep without some silver, iron and a bottle of salt. Holy water is a bit harder to come by but thank you for the heads up._

 _I realize now that you must be a hunter. I do hope you do not try sending someone out to kill me if you have connections out this far. I hope one day to meet you without dying. Then again since an evil madman wants to kill me that may just be wishful thinking. Since you have been writing to me consistently enough, I hope you will receive the package I have sent your way. It will be useful. After all, if you are going to kill witches (out here we call them hags) that make those kind of decisions with magic then it is best you have better information._

 _Cheers,  
Harry _

_P.S. Magic affects electronics out here in school. I am counting on the fact that you visit Singer's Salvage Yard sporadically at best. By the time you get this, I may have spoken to you via phone. School will be over in about a week and a half. I will be into my summer hols. I may call you randomly though and hope you'll get my call. If not, enjoy the stuff._

Dean re-read the letter. At least the kid is smart. Half-bro had guts and possibly lost all sense of reason. Of course, if he was going to believe he had a sibling named Harry – it was better to be on some sort of page. Raising his eyebrows, he tore into the package he was sent. He was half-mindful of any traps that could potentially harm him. The contents were – surprising.

"Nice." Dean grinned peering at what he had been sent. " _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ : _A Historical Study_ , lame. Hello Harry, what is this kid?"

He quickly pulled out what looked like a strange nunchaku. When he unraveled the parchment keeping it together, he had to grin wide. _One end has salted iron, other end silver. The chain keeping it altogether has runes for protection. Made it myself; I have one of my own too. Took me all of March to make, hope it keeps you safe._

"Huh," Dean huffed as he stared at the nunchaku and the book. "I never pegged him for a Bruce Lee fan."

 **\- 03. Street Fightin' Man -**

 **THEN**

 **Motel**

 **Antioch, TN**

"Damn it," Dean grumped and his eyes gritty with sleep. Checking the time on his blaring phone, he saw that it was nearly half past eleven, in the morning. "Hello?"

"Hello," a heavily accented voice replied. "Dean? It's Harry."

Sleep flew quickly away. "Harry. Hi."

"Yeah, I hope I didn't wake you?"

"Nah, you're good." Dean gruffly replied. "Where are you now?"

"In my room," Harry murmured. "I'm just doing some studying up."

"Hm," Dean huffed, now sitting up in bed, blankets and pillow strewn about him in a cocoon. "So, what are you studying up on?

"Er, magic."

"Right, you're a wizard Harry."

"I suppose I am." The kid retorted. "And you're a hunter."

"I suppose I am," Dean repeated. He desperately needed a coffee for this conversation. "So, now you know that I am – why the hell would you want to continue speaking to me? Mojo can't affect the phones can they?"

There was a heavy intake of breath on the other side. "Ah. Well, it's not every day one hears they have a half-brother across the Atlantic. Do you want me dead?"

"Usually," Dean replied. "People like me don't think twice to shoot."

"Oh," Harry uttered. "Oh, I see. Well – er – to answer that last question – the mojo I have causes electronics to fry. It has something to do with overpowering electrical and radio waves. I'm still unclear about that sort of thing."

Dean chuckled darkly, he looked around the room. He spotted the machine of to the side that was the motel's only saving grace. Coffee was the holy enchilada of waking up because dammit, this conversation was getting too touchy feely.

"I guess I should hang up now and pray you don't send people out for me." Harry continued. "I mean, you're a hunter so that makes sense to attack first, ask questions later."

"Right, well good thing you're my half-brother."

"I'm uncertain if you're being serious or having me on." Harry mumbled.

"Go with both," Dean said.

"Er, did you get the package I sent?"

"Yeah," Dean growled. "Nice work on the Bruce Lee sticks."

"Thanks."

"As long as you don't use your mojo like the things described in the book you sent me then we're good. Those _Unforgivables_ aren't exactly my cuppa Joe." Dean stated. There was an audible gasp and while he couldn't picture his brother in mind, he had a feeling he probably did the same thing all Winchesters did when flummoxed. He grinned. The kid probably had the infamous Winchester eyebrow furrow and blue steel gaze. "So why'd you call?" Dean finally stumbled out of bed, thanking the Powers that Be for the coffee pot that was in his room. He quickly began the process of a poorly brewed cup of coffee.

"Oh, just – er, calling you because you hate writing (here Dean chuckled again) and to inform you on my thoughts about your music list."

"Great, lay it on me."

It was queer how easy it was to talk to his younger brother after the initial awkwardness. Even in his head he called Harry that. A younger brother; another one – even if the one he knew immediately was a pain in the ass. This one wasn't too bad. Apparently, he took wake-up grumpiness into stride. Not even Sammy could have pulled that off without an offer of coffee. Of course, nothing was set in stone. Harry was still more an acquaintance than someone close. There seemed to be an unspoken rule that for a Winchester – you're not quite family until you got out of some trouble together.

"Out of the ones you gave me, I like Lynard Skynard and Rolling Stones the best. Led Zeppelin is fine but not really something I would want to listen to on repeat. Now The Who on the other hand, are fantastic." Harry stated.

Dean felt like his face was falling off. The unintended grinning he was doing was foreign. Then again, it was never too late to encourage the minds of tomorrow to listen to better music. "Huh, sounds like you took my advice well enough. By the way, what runes did you put on the kickass sticks of doom?"

"Is that what you're calling them now?"

"Yeah," Dean drank the sludge he just brewed, making a face as he did so. "They're not bad kid. Honestly didn't realize you could make stuff like this."

"I guess," Harry replied. "They were based off a movie I got to see once."

"Oh yeah," Dean asked. "Which movie was that?"

"I think it was The Game or something like that?" Harry said.

"It's Game of Death," Dean remarked. "And you only saw it once?"

"Yeah," Harry murmured. "I don't remember much of it; just thought the weapon was neat. I have my own too – made one just for myself. The runes are some of the protective ones my friend Hermione showed me. I think they're Eastern European in origin at best. All of them are in a rotating pattern. It's supposed to keep evil away."

"Really," Dean asked – his sludge of coffee completed and he was finally sipping at it with relish. "Do you remember the runes you used?"

Their conversation was interrupted when someone seemed to be yelling on Harry's side. The oldest of the pair could hear through the connection a pounding upon what sounded like a door. "Right, well I must go. This was a good first talk." Harry reasoned.

Dean chuckled grimly. "You call me up and you're hanging up already? "What am I: entertainment?"

"No," Harry winced as he stared grimly at the door. "It's my aunt. I'll call you round, let you know about those runes. I just wanted to see if my phone worked. I must be off. Um, would you mind if I try calling again some time?"

"Yeah, I don't mind. Don't be a stranger and – " As Dean was going to speak again, his phone went silent. "Damn kids."

With a sigh he put down his phone and took another sip of coffee. The nunchakus were on his table and he could see the faint lines of engraved runes on both ends. He wondered at them as he also fingered the book his brother sent. Taking another deep breath, Dean promised he'd finish the book and figure out what to get his kid brother for his birthday. Kid was too generous but at least now he knew there were areas out there where he was at that was fully magical. Bobby was doing some research on that world now that they were all aware of it. Not that he'd go into the world and disrupt their order.

It was more of a precaution anyway. What could it hurt knowing more? After all, if this world Harry lived in was a new brand of magic; it was better to be warned about it and what way to defend oneself. As the day progressed – Dean was thankful it was a quiet week so far – today he was going to a concert and tomorrow, he'd be hitting the road. His dad had given him some coordinates to meet up with him to get rid of a banshee.

 **NOW**

 **4 Privet Drive**

 **Little Whinging, Surrey**

He had woken up pissed. The last letter from his best friends was just as useless as the first one he got. Why they even bothered he didn't know.

Harry hadn't received a word or peep from Ron or Hermione. Just letters telling him they could not tell him what was going on. He at least heard from Neville and Luna. Nev had some project with these native seeds he received for a plant native to Aruba. Luna was apparently in Mauritius with a family friend looking at a 'raphus cucullatus magica'. Apparently the magical dodo wasn't extinct. Just hidden and well preserved. Their eggs were rare enough and the shells had strong healing properties. Harry sighed. Sometimes the magical world always threw him to the winds with how strange it got.

"Here you are my dear!" Aunt Petunia's shrill voice stated as Harry came down the stairs. From the corner of his eye, he saw the look of distaste on everyone's face. Slices of fruits and vegetables had become norm for them this summer. Apparently, Dudley was too overweight to continue doing wrestling if he didn't have a balanced meal. Aunt Petunia had taken it and made everyone (including him) go on a diet.

"Mum," Dudley whined. "I want bacon, eggs and toast for breakfast."

"No dear," Aunt Petunia fretted. "You know what the doctor said."

Harry slipped out the front door before he could hear any more. Most days he had been doing that lately. He didn't want to stick around his relatives. It was a bit too depressing. He had developed a routine since he realized he could pick-lock his way out of his room without people being none the wiser.

Besides his relatives didn't care, never cared he was around anyway. Perhaps he was rebelling, perhaps the anger and irritation he felt towards the magical world made him feel more on edge. The news he was able to garner while hiding out beneath the lounge-room window from behind the gardenias depressing was also useless. Walking around his neighbourhood and taking time to visit the folks he knew in the community helped.

There was a ringing tone that came from his front pocket. Frowning, Harry scrambled to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Harry!" his older brother's voice was weird to hear at nearly nine in the morning. "Listen, can you look something up for me?"

Harry frowned. "Sure."

"In your books, do you know of any creatures that eat children – specifically their – er – stomachs?" Dean sounded frantic. Well as frantic as a baritone voiced man who was normally cool, calm and collected could sound.

This sounded familiar. Blinking and possibly looking like a fool as he stood in the middle of the sidewalk, Harry thought back to third year in Lupin's class. They had touched base on a number of interesting creatures that year. There were plenty classified as dark. Magic wanted to preserve some of them unless they went rogue and attacked others. There were different classifications of dark species. The ones that Lupin touched base on were normally reviewed in first and second years as well as an introduction to some of the common myths around them. One in particular stood out in his mind applicable to the question.

"Sounds maybe like a hobgoblin?" Harry said with an uncertain lilt. "I mean I can look it up – "

"You came up with a hobgoblin? Thanks man, got to run." Dean interrupted and left his younger brother with awkward silence. Quickly looking at his mobile, Harry quirked an eyebrow, apparently hanging up was a thing for a Winchester. With a shrug, Harry continued on his way.

He had just made it to the park when his phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Hi Harry, this is Mark," Harry grinned at the younger boy's voice. "Wondering if you were going to come over again to help us build the other stuff?"

"I'm already on my way."

"Cool, see you, bye." He never thought he would see the day when excitable pre-teens (Colin's paparazzio style of photography was really something) would endear them to him. This summer indeed had become interesting times. Just as he ended the call with Mark, his phone rang while in his hand.

"Hello?"

"It's Dean," came the gruff voice. "Know of the different types of hobgoblins?"

"Erm, hang on," Harry juggled the phone to the crook of his left ear while he rummaged through his messenger bag. He certainly looked odd in the middle of a sidewalk doing so. However, he didn't seem to care. He didn't notice the blue eyes staring at him from across the way or the different pops. His thoughts intent on finding what he needed. When his fingers grasped the book he wanted from his bag and flipping it open to the correct page (all this took at best thirty seconds) he was suddenly aware of being watched more intensely. "Right, here it is. Ah, you're possibly looking for a duwende."

"What?"

"A duwende," the teen repeated. "They're common to Polynesian islands and Asia. Sort of like goblins or elves. They're mischievous things from what I gather, although if you anger one, they tend to go after children."

"Right," Dean's gruffly responded. "Thanks kid, will call you later."

The phone cut off again. Harry replaced his book into his bag and phone into his pocket before rushing faster down the street. He knew he was risking having done that in public. He felt those eyes again. The stares making the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Things did not change until he got to Nathan's home. He opened and closed the gate with confidence. Going up to the door, he rang the bell and heard the patter of feet as someone yelled they had the door.

"Harry! Come in!" Mark exclaimed wide-eyed and happy. "Sarah just got breakfast on the table, come in, come in!"

And with that Harry's day progressed as it had the past few weeks. Nathan, Mark and he would work on something in the garden (a bird feeder) or on cabinetry (for Mrs. Currie two blocks down) while Sarah worked her Yoga job. Today was his fifteenth birthday, not that anyone knew that, and he was going to spend time with these three. As they sat down to enjoy the breakfast Sarah made, he couldn't help but feel at peace.

Of course, that feeling was short-lived.

"Thanks for helping us with the woodwork Harry." Nathan grinned watching the teen off. The pair of them along with Mark had taken time to fix up some of the shelving in the garden shed (which was apparently atrocious).

"Yeah, any time I'm around." Harry replied with a nod. "Stay safe Nathan."

"Harry," The older man murmured. "Thanks for being there for Mark these past few weeks. It has been a tough transition for him since his parents got into an accident a while back."

"Yeah, not a worry," There was a tinge of pink on Harry's face. "Take care, yeah. I'm heading off back to the Dursleys. See you round."

Nathan nodded and with that Harry disappeared into the evening. The teen followed the same, normal pathway from the Harrisons to the Dursleys with ease. He didn't feel anyone watching him this time round. This was odd since for the past few weeks since he returned to Privet Drive, someone seemed to be always watching him. As he walked he noticed dark shapes and shadows walking ahead of him near the entrance of Magnolia Crescent. It was Dudley and his gang, saying their farewells. As he stepped closer, he observed them.

He saw the weedy looking Malcolm guffawing over some kid they had freaked out. Then bloody Piers Polkiss complimented his cousin over a punch he had delivered. Harry would have growled and felt an itch to take all five of them. He wanted to make them suffer, he thought darkly. Just because they were older and larger didn't mean they should go around terrorizing kids around the neighbourhood. He may have helped Mark Evans but what about the other kids in the community just like him?

He approached Dudley who was finally left alone. His older cousin humming tunelessly ahead of him and with a dark smirk Harry greeted him. He began railing on his cousin. After all, why would a fifteen year old willingly beat up kids in the neighbourhood just because they could? Dudley snarled back a response. To which Harry taunted his cousin some more. The walk from the corner of Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk grew shorter; narrowing down towards Privet Drive.

The comment about his courage in bed threw him off.

"So what if I moaned in bed?" Harry asked with a raised brow, still nonplussed by his cousin's word. Dudley got a sly look on his face and gave a harsh response, mocking the nightmares he'd had from the last night of the Tournament.

Rage finally settled in as he yelled at his cousin to shut up. However something in the air changed. A freezing cold that stole one's breath. Then Harry saw it; a dementor. All that bravado faded as the green-eyed teen did what he could to drive the creatures away. All the while, the voice of his mother's dying words echoing in his mind.

 **LATER**

"Dean, it's me. Look sorry I left this message to late but I got in trouble with my kind. If you get this, just so you know I'll probably be away from proper electronics for a while. Hope you got that problem from earlier sorted out. I will call you as soon as I can. In the meanwhile, stay safe."

Dean frowned and looked at his calendar. It was definitely not yet September 1st and there were still some things he needed to learn about his brother. That said, he was grateful for the info he had gotten from the wizard.

A form of hobgoblin: duwendes were the absolute worst. He groaned as he saw the bandage wrapped around his forearm. He sighed; at least he got that sucker good.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** A bit short in terms of length but hopefully this is still okay. Since this fic isn't beta read, there are some things that may go awry. That said, I hope you enjoy this. Thank you for the faves and follows and comments - greatly appreciate it. We'll be seeing some of SPN #1 soon (no promises on how soon.) Cheers, Dae.


	4. Don't Open Your Eyes

**SOON**

 **4 Privet Drive**

 **Little Whinging**

The familiar metallic smell reached his nose as soon as they reached the door. Remus Lupin stared at the house in trepidation, eyebrows furrowing. The real Alastor Moody held his wand at the ready as they opened the front; an advance guard ready to take the Boy-Who-Lived with them. At fifteen, he was being charged for conducting magic before muggles in broad public. They had been sent to take him from the confines of his relatively peaceful home.

"Merlin's bloody balls," the one-eyed wizard hissed. "Wands out at the ready; there's no movement inside."

There was a reason for that.

Blood was splattered across the cupboard door of the main hall. The lounge was the most gruesome. Someone nearly retched their supper all over the front step.

The bodies in the lounge and kitchen areas were terrifying to see. It was the image of a woman split into two pieces between the two rooms that caused most of the Advance Guard to apparate away. The rest who stayed were either looking elsewhere (Nymphadora) or had harder constitutions than most (Kingsley and Remus). The further into the house they went, the more the mystery.

A whale of a man was found pinned to the wall with multiple knives stuck through his body. Another man lay slumped over as blood dripped down his face from a wound (looked like a musket wound to Alastor). A whale of a boy who was barely breathing still sat in a dining room chair bound and tied. Beneath him, a circle of red paint (Remus sniffed the air – no, blood) dried into a strange circle of sigils. The werewolf within him howled. He knew what had happened here. He had seen it before.

"This is a right mess." Alastor gruffed. Kingsley who was silent still at this point had gone to check the boy in the chair.

"We will need to bring this one to a healer," he said. "This one is out for the count."

Remus stood still at the doorway, his nerves and memories colliding. When he had been eight he had seen something like this. Was told something like this could happen but had to watch as the protector enlisted to helping his family turn around and get killed. Watched as the man died in the arms of Frenrir before he, himself got turned. He had had a few run-ins since whenever he went Muggle.

"I have checked upstairs," Nymphadora Tonks he could hear from climbing down the steps. "It's clear."

She had found a door with multiple locks upon it. The door was wide open, broken into from the looks of it. Things had been hastily moved around, as if someone was packing. Some pieces of blank parchment littered the floor and the empty owl cage remained that way. The boy's closet was ransacked but no evidence anything else was taken. Just clothing and things – someone had packed in a rush. There was even a loose floorboard under the bed that had been cracked open. Assuming this was Harry's; she was shocked at how empty it looked. Checking the other rooms, she noticed nothing was disturbed.

"Tonks," Remus whispered meeting her from just outside the hall, pale as paint. "Only tell Dumbledore that Harry is missing. Do not say a word about anything else. Promise me. Do not for the love Merlin look into that man's eyes. Get Sirius to look into his library. Tell him it's urgent. Tell him – hunters."

He could feel Alastor's magical eye on his back, heard the slight change in Kingsley's heart rate. The younger woman only blinked, frowned a moment before giving a nod. As she apparated away she along with the others that were still investigating the scene came to a realization. If demons were after Harry Potter – then they had just been thrown into a much larger game.

 _What the blazes happened?_

 **\- 04. Don't Open Your Eyes –**

 **THEN**

 **4 Privet Drive**

 **Little Whinging, UK**

A freezing cold that stole one's breath. Then Harry saw it; a dementor. All that bravado faded as the green-eyed teen did what he could to drive the creatures away. All the while, the voice of his mother's dying words echoing in his mind. Instinctively the brunet had already reached for his wand. Just as his cousin fainted, with shaking fingers Harry focused his thoughts. " _EXPECTO PATRONUM_!"

The giant stag burst from this wand, lighting the night. He sustained it for as long as he could. His magic drove the three dark creatures back from him and his prone cousin. The threat being taken care of, the teen half dragged his lump of a cousin back through the familiar pathways. The teens had been caught in the alley that cut through Magnolia Way and on to Privet Drive. The dementors were driven far back away for him to get them safely away enough from the cold the dementors presented. Although weak, the dementor was taken care of without anyone really noticing, at least no one had peeped outside their windows at the glowing creature. "Come on Dudley, wake up! Please – Merlin's soggy balls – please. Dammit!"

"H-harry," Dudley half stuttered. He had only been out for about fifteen seconds and half stumbled after his smaller, wirier cousin. "W-what is going on?"

"Oh thank," the brunet teen whispered. "Here, (he paused to let Dudley rest as he took out a Mars bar from his messenger bag) take this."

Dudley took it immediately, without compunction he ate it. "What was that?"

"It was a dementor," Harry felt energy surge through his being; adrenalin ran through his veins. "They're not supposed to be here. Come on, let's get you home."

Between the two they made it without further incident to Number 4. Dudley was pale and huffing all the way. It wasn't until they reached the house that Harry felt something odd. His scar twanged a bit. As if it was triggered by something strange. He paused at the door only to have Dudley barrel his way through. Frowning, he tried to stop his cousin from going in. Something was wrong; so terribly wrong.

"Wait Dud," Harry said. "There's something not right."

"I don't give a flying rat's arse." Dudley murmured, still visibly shaken from his encounter. As he reached the door, it opened to a broadly smiling Petunia.

"Oh good," the blonde woman said. "You're just in time for dinner."

With a gasp and a yell Harry and Dudley were pulled into the home. Without realizing it, the boys were seen going in by a pair of familiar blue eyes and scruffy demeanor. Inside, the brunet didn't realize how strong his aunt was as he was dragged towards the dining room table.

Colour drained from his face. His uncle – Vernon – caused Dudley to yelp. Soon they were sitting forcefully upon the dining room chairs. Harry struggled against the woman, feeling the pain and pressure she was putting upon his shoulder, his messenger bag flailing with him.

"Oof!"

Suddenly he fell into darkness as something hard whacked him across the back of the neck. He was dizzy as images came to the forefront of his mind. Someone was screaming. It was a woman, struggling and asking for aid. There was also a flash of a dark hall with baubles on the shelves.

He came to. The place where his scar sat ached to the point like it felt like something was cracking him from inside out. He could barely see but as he slowly rose to consciousness, he quickly realized he was bound up. His aunt was all over him beside a whimpering Dudley who had scratches already upon his face. The blood running in rivulets as the being that had been his aunt made another incision into his cousin's skin – this time straight through his t-shirt and into his skin. His cousin screamed.

"Oh hush now son," Petunia said. Her voice sugary sweet and her eyes turned black as pitch from the pupils to the whites. "Your father is still here."

"You're not," Dudley began. "You're not – (he choked on his words)." The being had done something, some sort of magic that seemed to have done something.

His messenger bag had been flung towards the sofa. The chords wrapped around him were tight across his chest and arms. The teen watched as his blonde haired cousin seemed to choke. His aunt – no the thing steering his aunt – just grinned some more.

"Well that's better," she said. "Tsk, it's difficult to speak without a tongue."

Harry struggled against the bindings. His eyes wandering between the exits he could mark, the thing driving his aunt, his struggling cousin and the effigy of a human pinned to the wall by fire pokers. Suddenly inhuman eyes peered at him face to face, those bony fingers upon his chest.

"Tsk," she muttered. "Hm, you are different aren't you boy. Almost (she sniffed the air around him and grinned widely as if she had found the most delicious steak) – heavenly. You've got power in you now. Intoxicating, I have never smelled this sort of energy before. I wonder, what are you child? Oh (there was a banging on the door) we have company! My, at least they're knocking. Such polite visitors, hello there, I'm coming!"

Harry felt like he was losing breath. Those bindings were cutting deeper into him. It was almost as if the beast inside his aunt wanted to slice him through the item alone. Beside him, Dudley wasn't doing any better. Blood was beginning to sputter out of his mouth.

"You are late!" the unfamiliar creature's voice screeched from the hall. "Come in, they're all ready for you."

With that, pain like he had never felt before thrust him to the background of his mind. Something had taken over, an anger that was forceful and wild. This something was alien, foreign and it took everything within him to fight. He saw images he had never seen before and people. Oh the people. Those Muggles didn't even stand the chance.

Inside he screamed while outside, someone else spoke. Someone, having realized his direct connection with the boy and was pleased.

 **THEN**

 **Harrison's Home**

 **Little Whinging, UK**

Nathan Harris was the type of fellow most folks in Little Whinging would describe as harsh around the edges. If it wasn't the tinge of North Yorkshire in his accent then it was his general presence. Although two inches shy of six feet, he was stocky and broad shouldered. He had a steady gaze and undeniable skills around the area of home building. In fact, he had his own business and was licensed to do home maintenance on a regular basis. People liked him for his professionalism and the compassion that he radiated at times. He was good at what he did – fixing things.

He was also a man with a past, an entire cavern of secrets. His wife Sarah was the same. In fact, both of them were together because of their foster child. Well, he wasn't really part of the system. He was inherited. Mark Evans was the only child of the late Christopher and Irena Evans; once retired hunters who were caught in a trap set upon them by the Morrigan.

Pagan gods were a specialty of the Evans'. Demons on the other hand were something Nathan knew inside out and had a personal vendetta against the creatures. His effed up life was being written down in a journal he hoped would pass down to a son one day.

"Something doesn't feel right," Nathan said to Sarah as they worked in tandem in cleaning up the kitchen. Mark was at the dining room table studying some lore on the Valkyries. "Did you think Harry was a little jumpier than usual?

She frowned as she put a rinsed dish into the dish rack before tackling the pan used to cook with. Her face concentrated with thought. She understood her husband's concerns. As a fellow hunter herself, well more like researcher, since he had rescued her from a vengeful spirit – Sarah was aware her husband was a little more paranoid than normal. They had been in Little Whinging for the past three years. So far they had checked every nook and cranny of the area seeking out the demons that Nathan had been hunting for the past twenty years.

"He did seem a bit out of sorts. Then again he may have had a run-in with Dudley, that horsey-faced woman or that gargantuan oaf. His relatives being who they were, I would be jumpy too. I also noticed he had only one piece of treacle tart." She murmured. "And he loves that dish."

"Hm," Nathan grunted. "I'm going to check up on him."

She blinked up at him. Her husband's clear blue eyes said everything. The fifteen year old boy had wedged himself into their hearts. He was worried and afraid for the lad. Harry had that same sad, lonely gaze in those green eyes that Nathan had. Those eyes told unspeakable stories set in someone who should be worried about girls, sports and whatever it is boys his age were into.

With a nod, she sent her husband off. Not realizing how much danger their small family unit would be in. Of course kindness never prepares one for cruelty.

 **THEN**

 **Number 4 Privet Drive**

 **Little Whinging, UK**

" _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ "

The white stag had been a surprise. Nathan was certain as the dark coldness was sent away from the area. He remembered these creatures. _Dementors_ were akin to the _shtriga_ if he recalled. He watched as the dark beasts were flung back by that feat of sorcery. From the sidelines he watched as the being holding Dudley Dursley pulled and prodded the blonde haired kid to wake up.

Harry was not normal. He was a wizard. The kid was a bloody, wand-wielding, natural born wizard. Of course the only boy he bonded with just had to be magical. Once again Nathan cursed his family line. He followed Harry down towards Privet Drive, the great tub of lard having regained his bearings after half a minute.

He followed and watched as the two teens were pulled into the house by Petunia Dursley. He frowned. The woman hated answering the door. In fact she was worse than her husband. As he followed and observed, he hid himself when he saw a man (was that Mr. Mason from Wisteria Walk?) approach the home. From his viewpoint, he saw Mr. Mason approach the door of Number 4 confidently.

Without even a greeting, Petunia Dursley screeched "You are late! Come in, they're all ready for you."

Nathan felt his face drain of heat. Demons had just infiltrated the Dursley household and he was the only one who could stop them. Normally, he wouldn't care but wizard or not – Harry, that boy was special. He knew the sentimentality would kill him one day. That thought out, he quickly sent Sarah a text: **Number 4 PD, state 10**.

Without further ado, Nathan quickly pulled out the gun he carried from a hidden holster which was on him at all times. It was still registered and lawful; a part of him when he had been a copper in his faraway past. Carefully following his usual protocol surrounding demons, he quietly brought out a silver flask filled with holy water. Staying cautious, he crept into the far too tidy place.

"Well, well, well," a deep voice reverberated through the room, making his skin crawl. "It looks like you are the surprise."

"Indeed," Nathan paused, he recognized that voice. "Untie me demon."

"I think not. This meatsuit's flesh seems to be useful, doesn't it?" Petunia's voice sneered.

"Lower beings dare speak to me?" It was Harry's voice. The boy was possessed!

"Pathetic," the first voice stated. Nathan crept closer.

"Don't speak to us abomination!" The woman snapped and a piercing cry rendered the air. Nathan nearly felt himself be torn into two.

Blood splattered quite suddenly. A wet, meaty rip and the lower voice demon laughed long and loud. "Bloody bitch. The whore didn't know you can't do that to a _horcrux_. Hm, at least she is gone for now – looking for another host. I wonder what you'll be like if I took over?"

Nathan didn't think any more, he charged straight through and without compunction shot a bullet at the man's head. He had taken the spirit by surprise. He would have exorcised it but watching the black mass that came out of the man and drive itself into the blonde boy dripping blood. He had no time. He knew and did his utter best not to see the dead bodies around the rooms. He sprayed holy water on the body of Dudley Dursley. The creature screamed.

Beneath the chair of the bigger teen, he saw his opportunity. It took seconds and some more holy water before he got a devil's trap in blood around the kid.

"Urgh!" It screamed beside Harry. The other boy was slumped over, head to chest, glasses askew and the messenger bag typical of the lad far from him.

"Harry," he whispered. "Harry?"

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?" the creature in Dudley's body yelled as it struggled against the trap set for it.

Without speaking to it, Nathan quickly recited the banishing ritual. Watching as the blonde boy's mouth opened wide and black mass of spirit was expelled and driven back into Hades. Uncertain if the teen was going to be possessed once more, he quickly pulled the lad away from the blood and gore.

He needed the kid awake. Someone was bound to have called the police by now. The screams and yells meant a noise complaint. Looking around him Nathan knew he needed to do some clean up until Harry woke. He was thankful for wearing the leather gloves he had on when he came in. The less people knew he had been present the better.

He didn't know why Harry was like this whatsoever.

 **-** _ **corrigenda -**_

His mind was a blaze of pain and suffering. He was running through the Dark Forest brandishing Gryffindor's sword against the thing that was there. The thing that wasn't part of him, something he wouldn't accept.

"GET OUT!" Harry screamed, struggling against the dark entity. "YOU ARE NOT PART OF ME!"

"Oh but I am."

White light filled him, an energy that encompassed him whole as he smote the being that had dared to keep itself within him.

 _ **\- corrigenda -**_

"Fuck," Nathan cursed. He quickly dialed Sarah's number tearing the bloody glove he wore from his hands. "Sarah, need back up now. Harry is seizing up."

 **-** _ **corrigenda -**_

Somewhere an entity known as Death smiled. He saw the dark little wisp of shadow emerge from the lad. Indeed. He saw the reaper before him look at him in disgust. Death shook his head. The dark little wisp turned into a boy similar to Harry except it wasn't a boy. It was a being, the size of an infant curled in a grotesque fetal position, bloody and bruised.

"One down," he mused. "There are six more to go. Hm, Harry Potter, you are an interesting child aren't you."

Without missing a beat, he quickly gathered the remnant of the bloody anomaly himself. He would deliver this into the deepest, darkest part of the pit himself. Things like this had a place after all.

 _ **\- corrigenda -**_

Harry woke up, barely seeing things. He saw a blur, a shape, in front of him. His body and mind felt so strange. Inside he felt as if he had gone through a few rounds with a troll. "Nathan?" He whispered.

"Yeah lad, I've got you. Here drink this."

The tepid liquid went down his burning throat. Had he been screaming?

"Good enough," The familiar voice and body said to him. He felt like he was being dragged and thoughts of being in Privet Drive occurred to him. "Dudley?"

"He's alive, he'll be fine."

"Hm," Harry whispered quietly. "M'bag?"

"With me."

"Hm," While he struggled to remain conscious as both he and Nathan dragged themselves through to a waiting, rumbling Nissan President the teen continued. "Heh-wig. Boar', sm-all wo-omb? Loose board. Oh, bed."

"Yeah, we'll get you in bed. In you get. Sarah love, I'll be back. Mark – look after him."

The teen promptly fell over unconscious. Nathan quickly slipped the lad's beloved messenger bag on top of him. Mark quickly took it and placed it under Harry's head. Twin pale faces stared at Nathan from within. He briefly thought they must have been a sight. Quickly going back into Privet Drive, he took a quick breath before clambering up the stairs. Harry despite his strange words had given him directions. Something he intended to follow through.

It took him a few seconds of ruffling through the room. He turned the desk over as well as the closet until he spotted the loose floor board near the boy's bed. Prying it open through an indentation he found; he spotted the items that must have meant much to the lad.

A dark brown shoe box, leather bound book and a couple of jelly jars filled to the brim with – money? The boy must have been saving for some time. He internally scoffed, of course he would have. Quickly, gathering the thing she had found. He took one last survey. Nothing else was in that hidden space. Without a backward glance, Nathan raced back out to the car. He heard sirens in the distance. He quickly pushed Sarah to drive, before he even closed to the passenger side. They wouldn't ever go back to the house.

No they would go to the next best thing.

Silence filled the vehicle as they four people sped into the deep night. Never knowing what those actions would mean. They didn't even hear the sound of people landing on the yard of Privet Drive in strange fashions. They never saw their reactions or the reactions of the cops in the community when they arrived and felt an incessant need to go somewhere else.

Muggle repellant charms were always so handy.

 **NOW**

 **Highway**

 **Outside of Bristol, UK**

Soft classical music filled the air as they drove down the highway far from the scene at Number 4. It had been a quarter past the two hour mark since Harry had witnessed something he never thought he would see. His eyes were red from not wanting to revisit those images. His head hurt as if something was squeezing it from within like an orange in a juicer. His chest where his heart was felt like it was beating far too erratically to be of use. He sat leaning against the seat of the car, staring listlessly as the world passed by, shivering internally as he tried to keep things together. He had woken up just a little over a half hour ago.

Beside him, a ten year old boy slept in a too big jumper. In the passenger seat, an olive skinned woman with wavy brown hair and a piercing blue eyes stared at the map in her hands. She was the one getting them to what Nathan called a safe house. The driver stared briefly back at him through the rear-view mirror.

"There love," Sarah said finally looking up from her map. "That exit and we should be looking for that track of road soon."

Harry shifted slightly as they got closer to what the woman had described. His green eyed gaze widening slightly when he saw a track of a one lane dirt road go up into a small wooded moorland. As the Nissan President Nathan drove wound its way through – the teen observed how tense Nathan's shoulders were.

They stopped. "Wait here," Nathan muttered as he put the car in park. "I'll check for the all clear."

No one spoke a word as the tall dark haired man made his way out. Harry could see him take a pistol from the driver's seat; giving Sarah the same thing before making his way to a ramshackle farmhouse. Never before in his life (all fifteen years of it) did he think that he would ever have been placed in this position.

 _I need to call Dean._ Harry thought. _And the rest of them will be wondering what happened to me. Something clenched tight in his stomach. Nathan, he's a hunter. He's got to be. What happened? Why do I hurt all over? What the bloody hell is going on?_

He took a deep breath, signalling his wakefulness. Sarah saw him through the rear-view and turned around. She smiled slightly at him as if to comfort. She was on alert when Nathan returned.

"It's good and clean, we'll stay here for tonight." He muttered as he got in and pulled up to the farmhouse he had scoped out. Harry could see strange markings all over the building. He struggled to stand.

 _Bloody, freaking hell_.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thank you once again for the reviews, follows and favourites. I don't know if I conveyed the action well in this chapter. I know it was stressful writing it out. There were moments I wondered how I could show the action without talking one's ear off about it. The struggle was real. To _**lilnudger82**_ \- they'll meet when they'll meet but they will meet and I know that's not a great answer; it's what I've got for you. To **_DeliciousCookie_** \- your constructive criticism and positive reinforcement to go more AU was the push I needed for this particular chapter. I definitely like long prologues - droll as they can be; it took Charlotte Bronte took ten chapters before she got to the point. That said - thank you very kindly for your review, definitely appreciated it! Now I bid you adieu, please leave a review! Thank you!


	5. Wind of Change

**THE ROAD SO FAR…**

 _Gorgeous auburn locks that hung to her elbows, dark green sweater dress, legs that went for days and eyes that reminded him painfully of Mary. Her English accent threw him for a loop; what was a Brit doing out here in the middle of nowhere in November?_

" _Well," Bobby Singer rumbled as he took another chug of beer. "You've got a choice to make. You open it or you don't."_

" _Were you ever going to tell us about Harry?" Dean asked with finality as the Impala came to a halt. The look on his father's face was more than enough of an answer. "How long have you known about him?"_

" _I don't get why dad would leave the kid hanging." Dean whispered. "He even says here that he hates his folks at home."_

 _Bobby shrugged. "I don't know either. Your daddy's got reasons but they're probably stupid. You've been careful at least. Come on, I gotta show you something."_

" _Here." Dean saw Bobby plonk down a cup of dark liquid in front of him. Rubbing his eyes and stretching tense muscles, the young man thanked the older hunter for the drink. "So? What's he like?"_

 _Despite the grumbling rumours that their nephew was insane – no one could stop the boy from working since he was cheap and actually really good. Despite being seen as scruffy around the shoulders and seemingly unkempt: seventy-five percent of the neighbourhood realized the Dursleys were the ones who should be locked up._

" _Hey Mark." He greeted. The boy looked like he was about to get a black eye on the left side and his lip look like it was bloody split open. The kid turned away from him with a glare._

"' _Cos I've been there where you are," Harry replied. "You said it yourself I'm a freak. Sadly since I have been away, Dudders has been taking it out on all of you smaller than him. Bullies never play fair. Otherwise I'd be carrying those battle scars you're currently sporting."_

" _Huh," Dean huffed as he stared at the nunchaku and the book. "I never pegged him for a Bruce Lee fan."_

 _The white stag had been a surprise._

" _GET OUT!" Harry screamed, struggling against the dark entity. "YOU ARE NOT PART OF ME!"_

" _Hm," While he struggled to remain conscious as both he and Nathan dragged themselves through to a waiting, rumbling Nissan President the teen continued. "Heh-wig. Boar', sm-all wo-omb? Loose board. Oh, bed."_

 _A whale of a man was found pinned to the wall with multiple knives stuck through his body. Another man lay slumped over as blood dripped down his face from a wound (looked like a musket wound to Alastor). A whale of a boy who was barely breathing still sat in a dining room chair bound and tied. Beneath him, a circle of red paint (Remus sniffed the air – no, blood) dried into a strange circle of sigils._

" _It's good and clean, we'll stay here for tonight." He muttered as he got in and pulled up to the farmhouse he had scoped out. Harry could see strange markings all over the building. He struggled to stand._

* * *

 **SOON  
**

 _ **Hogwarts Library  
** **Somewhere in Scotland, UK**_

When Hermione Granger is frustrated, the entire school seemed to know. Even those who were years older and/or of a pureblood line stayed clear away from any table she chose to use. The girl was creative with her hexes. Today as she was surrounded by texts of various shapes as well as sizes – she was using all of that as a cover. In her hands was a scrap of parchment and a brown paper package the size of a book.

 _Open when safe_

Her brown eyed gaze was intense – something like this was certainly a liability. Taking her time she did as the scrap paper indicated. She quickly put up privacy wards around her study area before reviewing the familiar spiky words. The writing caused her to worry even more.

" _The Wizard of Oz_ by Frank L. Baum," She frowned. "What?"

Why would Harry send her a Muggle book? But as she opened the pages she realized that it had been a trick. The book itself had a hollowed center with smaller brown packages with names inside.

 _Hermione_

She found the one meant for her and furtively taking a quick glance she opened it. She frowned seeing the item. It was a pendant that looked like a sickle with a metallic chain. The edges had a runic structure composed of three lines of stringed runes – was that Phoenician? Wait that was definitely – furthak and Greek – that bordered the edge of the coin like pendant. One side of the pendant had her name encircled with the triple lined runic structure. The other side held a symbol of a diamond that was composed of open, interlocking spaces. The edge of that side had scrawling Latin. Words that made her eyebrows jump.

She frowned, she recognized this symbol.

Flipping through the pages of her favourite Runic textbook, she came across an identical image. Her eyebrows rose. This was beyond Seventh Year material. In fact only qualified Curse Breakers could even begin to do this sort of thing. The symbol on the pendant was a _shrivatsa_. It was thought to have come from Tibet and was a one of the auspicious symbols. It was also noted to have special properties. One of those properties is said to stop demonic possession.

Where did Harry James Potter have time to make something like this? In fact where in the world was he?

Feeling a headache coming along, she quickly noticed that the parchment the item came from had further writing. She quickly looped the pendant around her neck, letting it rest at the hollow of her collar bones. She was thankful that the dangling chain was hidden beneath her uniform away from view. She had quick moment to read the note he had penned.

 _KLGLQJ_

 _JULQJRWWV_

 _DVN 21215154312123_

 _2026214 25050519 01180308010903 1821140519_

She frowned. What did Harry just send her?

 **\- 05. Wind of Change -**

 **THEN  
**

 _ **Safehouse  
**_ _ **Outside of Bristol, UK**_

It had been a couple of hours since they had fled from Little Whinging. About two o'clock in the morning and already they were filing into rooms within the ' _safehouse_ '. Mark who had been dozing comfortably in the car was still dozing comfortably but on a bed this time. Harry when he had made to stand after shuffling out of the back seat – had fallen back to unconsciousness. That left only Nathan and Sarah to look after the two minors while their anxiety levels rose.

"Demons in Little Whinging," Sarah groaned. "It's just our luck."

"Hm," Nathan chuckled as he took a sip of his favourite brand of Guinness. "Two of them, I almost didn't make it if it weren't for Harry. One of them got forced out of occupying Petunia Dursley. Woman was split into two; don't know how that happened but something about Harry isn't natural. The demon in the one man – think he's from Wisteria something – I shot him just as he went overtook the Dursley boy. Vernon was already pinned to the wall – knives or pokers, whatever that demon bitch used – he looked like a hedgehog. If I hadn't acted when I did, the Dursley kid would have probably ripped my innards out. They mentioned something about a horcrucks or whatever it was."

Sarah was silent throughout his entire monologue. His wife and he were cleaned up and resting on the couch – both the beds in the safehouse taken over by either Harry or Mark. The former had tried to stand while getting out of the car only to collapse into unconsciousness. Mark was surprised how light the teen was despite obviously working out and being active. Being careful of any injuries Harry may have sustained he made sure to have placed the teen safely on one of the beds. The kid was paler than normal. If it wasn't for constantly checking for his breath and heartbeat – they wouldn't have known if he was alive.

"I suppose that's a place to start," Sarah murmured. Nathan looked at her. "What with _them_ chasing us and now this – we'll have to go deep underground and come up with a defense plan for both parties. Whatever Harry is – he's not evil. Did you notice anything else unusual?"

"The fact demons overtook Little Whinging and we are once again on the run for our lives?" Nathan snorted. He winced when his wife slapped one of his bruised arms out of annoyance.

"Shut it – I'm trying to be optimistic here."

"Hm," Nathan groaned – stealing a kiss from his wife. "I want to sleep. Talk more about this in the morning."

"No, we deal with it now."

"Damn." Nathan paused momentarily, trying to distract himself by holding his wife closer. "I noticed he had a wand."

Sarah blinked for a moment before looking closely up at her husband. "Who?"

"Harry," Nathan sighed. "He's got a wand."

There was a moment of silence as the pair sat quietly on the seat. "Are you certain?"

"Yes, saw him use it to dispel a _Dementor_ with some sort of spirit animal." Nathan rejoined. "Also, never noticed it before but when I was close to Number 4, I felt this energy in the air. As if the house had cracked somehow. I don't know how to explain it other than I think there had been wards at that house for a long time and for some odd reason they had broken."

Sarah stared at her husband. "Are you positive?"

"Yes," Nathan said. "Certainly it has been fifteen odd years since I first came here to this time and place but I certainly recognize those types of magicks. My birth parents were oddly paranoid about those types of things. I think their home is still around somewhere hidden by the most nefarious charms. Roderick was adamant that I at least learn to know about that part of my history. In case I hunt something that wasn't – well – wasn't the norm."

"What is the norm? Wand waving wizard," Sarah murmured as she cuddled closer to her husband. "What have we gotten ourselves into?"

The pair sat in the peace of the night, falling asleep upon each other as they quietly allowed themselves to take in the silence despite their past ordeal. It was a testament to their history that they barely blinked when faced with the oddest circumstances. They didn't wake up until the smell of eggs, bacon and something sweet filtered through the air hours later.

 **NOW**

 _ **Hogwarts Library  
** **Somewhere in Scotland, UK**_

"Well, well, well – if it isn't Mudblood Granger." Pale, aristocratic features with hair shockingly close to platinum – he would have been good looking if it wasn't for the sadistic sneer he gave.

Hermione groaned. She had just finished putting away the rest of the package into her new beaded bag charmed with an undetectable extension charm just as a group came into view. There were five of them: Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and Bulstrode. She watched as the latter had cornered her back while Crabbe and Goyle closed off the aisles on either side of her study area respectively. She was effectively trapped.

"I heard the Golden Boy is dead," Malfoy grinned, white teeth too bright in the dim light of the library. "In fact, he's actually been dead since summer and what is it, November now?"

"Three months Draco," Parkinson stated with a sugary simper. "This eyesore is nothing without her friends."

Of course it would be her luck to be alone in the library against the bloody Inquisitorial Squad. Why did she do this to herself? She was about to speak when two figures seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. Twin peaks of fiery red hair loomed behind the group in front of her.

"You know," Ron's familiar voice retorted. "I thought Slytherin was about cunning, not predictability."

"I could deduct points for your cheek." Malfoy sneered. "In fact I would if it wasn't for the fact your house hasn't got any points to lose."

"That means," Fred (she figured it was him because he had a freckle just beside his right eye) began.

"We are more dangerous." George finished. Everyone in the space looked around at their mutual 'enemies' as tension rose in the small space she had sequestered herself in. Suddenly Mrs. Pince came behind even the twins with a stack of floating books behind her.

"Read or leave." The crotchety librarian hissed. The Slytherins slunk away with a huff and Draco hissed the Lions lost a hundred points for disrupting study sessions in the library. Mrs. Pince eyed Hermione who looked back at her with that familiar look of studious sorrow and shaking body. With a roll of her eyes the librarian walked passed grumbling that Gryffindor would receive fifty points for not wrecking the spines of any of the books within the library.

"Close one," Ron whispered. The twins looked at him and both equally raised their eyebrows. "You know we shouldn't really be alone in the library 'Mione. In fact, we really shouldn't be alone anywhere!"

Hermione glared at him before turning to the twins. "I need to speak with you, all of you."

Everyone in the space nodded, following the frizzy haired brunette even as she flicked her wand – directing her magic into the familiar Latin running through her mind. Books that she had used went back to their proper places while the papers she had been working on stowed themselves neatly into her pouch. She grinned looking up at the twins and Ron on stared on in awe.

"Fairest lady," George began.

"Can we see that pouch?" Fred finished.

"Maybe later, come on – we need to get the others."

The three Weasleys looked at her as she led the way. Fred looked at Ron who shrugged, following after her. George rolled his eyes at his twin. "Your lady love charges on into the distance." He stated following after their younger brother.

 _Thanks George, tell the entire school._ Fred thought with a frown. Not that he would reveal his extremely large admiration for Hermione's backside – er – brains. _Wait is Ronald eying her too? Hm, I wonder if we should get that itching powder into his pants. Teach him to keep it in._

Needless to say Fred hurried after his brothers and the straightforward brunette. He kept slight watch for any stragglers just as his brother did the same. There was always a possibility that they could be ambushed. It was difficult figuring out who to trust anymore. His last year of school with George and all over they had been overrun by a pink toad. It was only in the interest of sheer self-defence that Hermione had even thought to sequester a few of her friends to study. It was the fact that four bodies kept using the same disused classroom that had the twins curious. Then again George would say that it was because of Fred's growing affection for the bushy haired witch that they even deigned to follow them.

The twins, Ron and Hermione soon passed a familiar blonde. She fell into step beside Ron. Ron looked down as sky blue eyes returned his gaze. "Ginny and Neville said they would be studying out by the green houses."

Hermione whirled around to look at Luna, whispering a quick word beneath her breath. The four people following her paused. They froze looking at her frantic eyes. "Hm." the brightest witch of her year murmured. Luna gave her an odd tilted look.

"Er, greenhouses," Ron asked hesitantly. "Yes, right?"

"Indeed." Hermione stated before continuing forwards and out to the grounds. She spelled her cloak with warming charms. The boys and Luna following her did the same. Without ado, the quartet sped walk their way through the grounds. They didn't fully realize that they were being followed by a furious Inquisitorial Squad. Of course that all changed when they saw Ginny and Neville.

"Glad to see you all more interested in plants," Neville started. "Er, why is Malfoy behind you?"

"What?" The twins, Ron and Hermione looked around while Luna just looked on at Ginny and Neville interestedly.

"Hm, good thing twirdraknods can't take us here yet." She said. "It would be equally difficult to get you back to order but also might result in a change in wardrobe. The wards still hold."

Neville and Ginny shared a look. "Er, Luna what do you mean twirdraknods?" Ginny asked politely.

"Evil things," Luna replied. "Dark twisted shapes that look like centipedes that crawl into their victim's mouths and make them do whatever their owner wants."

Ron paled. "That sounds worse than a spider?"

"Hm," the blonde said. "They take anyone they see fit."

"Perhaps we should go back inside the greenhouses." Neville suggested feeling the awkward discomfort in the air and also seeing the mix of fearful to annoyed to amused looks on his friends' faces. Luna's brand of honesty was something of a challenge to understand.

The group followed after the seemingly waltzing girl who had calmly walked back through the door the duo came from. No one spoke further until they reached a familiar yet empty classroom. With ease, Fred closed the door behind them, putting up a ward to ensure no one was following them. He also put up an additional muffling spell that would make it difficult for anyone to listen in.

As they got comfortably sat at random desks or chairs at the center of the room Hermione quickly cast a strange runic symbol in the air. She uttered a few phrases in Latin that were foreign. Even to the twins. Then quickly she seemed to cast some white things and flung it at her oldest friend in the room. Fred chuckled internally at that while sharing confused looks with his brother.

"What the bloody blazes?" Ron yelped. "Wait – was that salt just now?"

He had just been pelted by some white pellets that had come out from Hermione's wand. Fred raised an eyebrow and stared at his twin who repeated the gesture with a frown. As if satisfied but not quite everyone in the room was pelted by what indeed tasted like salt.

"Just had to make sure," the brunette replied. "Here quick, get a package with your name on it then when can speak. We'll have to do this quick. _Muffilato_."

"Hermione the great and powerful," George began with Fred finishing. "There are already silencing wards up."

The brunette blinked before she blushed. A becoming shade of pink crawled up her face. She waved her wand once more and Fred felt the changes. Interesting, she had recast the muffling spell with another binding charm. The extra muffling spell would probably be like have a cotton ball and ear muffs over one's ears should anyone be trying to come into the greenhouse.

Fred turned from his musing to Ginny who handed him a brown paper package with his name upon it in a familiar scrawl. Both twins opened their packages at the same time. Within the confines of the paper he saw that it was a pendant the size of a sickle. He noticed the runic markings and the strange symbol at the back. They looked foreign to him. Some of it he thought he had seen in some Defense text that they had procured from the Restricted Section. He frowned before slipping on the pendant. He also looked at the paper the pendant had come in.

 _KLGLQJ_

 _JULQJRWWV_

 _DVN 21215154312123_

 _2026214 25050519 01180308010903 1821140519_

"Looks like – " George started

"Code." Fred finished. Twins stared at it some more.

"Gringotts." Luna murmured. Everyone turned to the blonde whose pendant was – a bottle cap?

"What?" Twin voices coming from Hermione and Ron asked. Everyone turned to the blonde who wore the bottle cap carefully around her neck. She looked at the note oddly before lighting it up on fire. Blinking at the piece of paper – Fred frowned. He figured that it had been a coded note but for the blonde to get parts of it somehow.

"Luna, show me." Hermione pulled out a muggle pen from her beaded bag. Fred wondered if the thing was new and watched as the brunette quickly penning something on the back of the paper. The two girls bent over the piece of paper as Hermione scribbled on the back of hers something, underlining something along the way. "Ron, pass me your paper."

The redhead did so without Hermione looking up from the task at hand. She was about to underline a letter when Luna shook her head. "Er, every third letter." Luna quietly said.

Fred watched as Hermione's fingers flew across the page. He saw Ginny fidget from her seat looking at the paper in her hands. Neville was stoic, arms crossed while he peered at the paper. George was already fiddling with the thing with a frown. Fred shrugged and did what Luna had causing his twin to look over. They shared a look and without further ado lit their notes on fire. Their younger siblings frowned at them. The twins shrugged before everyone turned to the gasp emitted by the smartest witch of her year.

"Thanks, oh!" Wide brown eyes stared at the blonde before exclaiming out another sigh before blinking rapidly.

"I think Luna," Ron said. "You broke her."

"Shut up Ron." Multiple voices (Neville surprisingly included) said in various tones of annoyance. The red head blinked, huffed a moment before slouching further on the seat he had procured. No one moved, no one spoke, everyone shuffled in nervousness as the brunette seemed to frown over both papers.

"Hermione," Ginny finally said as indeed the brunette seemed to have gotten a mental break. "Luna?"

"It's a code," Hermione said. "The twins were right. Luna – is this?"

"It's accurate."

"In English please!" Ron finally exclaimed looking at the two girls – finally shifting upwards. It had been nearly ten minutes since the girls pored over the paper pieces and for twenty minutes there had been nothing but silence. It would have been funny. It took everything in Fred not to snort like George just did. Of course, the girl genius finally explained.

"It's better if I show you, here – the letters are just coded to be up three spaces from the actual text." Hermione began. "The K is – if we move three letters back from the alphabet is actually an H. But the numbers…do you see? Harry you clever boy."

Six teens (although Luna stood a bit apart having figured out their notes) crowded about Hermione as she flicked her pen across the brown paper. While they puzzled out the words she had deciphered from their mutual notes; they had yet to realize that by putting on the pendants they had triggered another protection. The protection was more an alarm to alert the one who made them if they were going to get into any life threatening situations. Which in the future, they would be more than glad for.

 **ELSEWHERE…**

 **Somewhere in Texas**

The phone buzzing through the empty hotel room surprised John awake. It was only five o'clock in the morning. Damn, looks like it was going to be an early day. He groaned. He saw his son's lumpy figure snoring in his usual position. Face planted to the pillow, stomach to the mattress and entangled in sheets. The noise he had heard was one of Dean's three cell phones. He took a quick inhale of breath. The dark mood he felt about waking up after only four hours of sleep beginning to settle in.

"Dean?" John called out. A snore was his response. Groaning, John stumbled out of bed towards where Dean had chucked his phone. The old bomber jacket he had bequeathed his son about three years ago. He saw it was still dusty after they had taken care of Lorna Goode – a woman who they identified as " _The Crier_ ".

Looking at the number calling, he frowned. _Kato_ – he blinked, why the hell would his son? Damn Bruce Lee movies. He decided to answer the call. He heard the fumbling of his son from where he lay. John sighed clicking the green phone button.

"Hello?"

"Dean?" A youthful voice asked. "Hello? Dean?"

"He's asleep."

"Time difference," the voice muttered. John felt his heart slamming in his chest. Although he wasn't a morning person (just like Dean) he was still sharp. The British voice seemed interesting. "Er, who would I be speaking to?"

"Dad," Dean grumbled, reluctantly awake. "Dad, isstha – that my phone?"

John frowned at his son. His eyes like laser beams. "I'm his father. Who's this?"

There was silence on the other line. The person seemed to be breathing quite heavily on the other line. In and out, he counted the breaths. He wondered at the kid's voice. It was young and reminded him of his youngest – middle – second oldest – child.

"No one," the Brit said just as Dean stumbled over to his dad. "Just a – a – ah, er, a friend, I'm just a friend. I'll try again at a better time. Again, my apologies Dean's – uh father."

John clenched his fist and glared at his first born.

"Is this Harry?" He asked authoritatively. He received a dial tone. "Damn it."

John flung the cell phone at his confused yet stoic son. The message clear as day: Mr. Winchester (senior) was completely displeased with the fact that his youngest offspring was in cahoots with his eldest. All he did was glare at Dean. The boy's skin took on a nice shade of pale.

"I don't know what got into your head to keep this up," John said finally. "Why the hell did you not listen to me when I told you months ago to leave Harry alone? I told you to stop communication with the kid even if he reaches out? His mother's last wish was for me – us – not to reach them because they were in danger most likely because they are a danger. I would have gone across the pond to hunt them myself."

Dean got angry then. The rumpled look of lacking sleep caused him to glower from the phone to John – a deep furrow between his brows. "Didn't you always tell me to look after my younger brother?

"Your younger brother is currently leading a 'normal' life in Stanford."

"Yeah well he's doing a fine job being my younger brother isn't he?" Dean asked. "I mean, it's not as if it's Harry's fault that the adults in his life don't want him."

That one hurt. Dean's blunt honesty reminded him of not only John's brand of love (which was harsh and difficult) but also of Mary's relentless compassion. Fuck, being a father was the worst.

"He is a monster's spawn." John hissed. "It's not your place to be proactively helping him out."

It occurred to Dean after that comment that John had known of Harry's abilities. He shook his head momentarily to get his bearing. "Wait, you know about his?"

"Yeah I knew," John growled. "His mother told me in her last letter."

There was silence in the room.

Dean clenched his fists against the blankets. His head hurting, his heart hurting and everything inside feeling utterly disappointed at the man shaking at him. Harry was a kid, fifteen years old and didn't know better. He had powers beyond his control and once upon a time, he would have killed the brat because that's what hunters did.

They shot first before asking questions.

You're a monster and you've hurt people? You've got powers beyond your control? That's what hunters did – they took it upon themselves to help those being pursued and destroyed by the things that bumped in the night. They killed monsters for a living whether they had yet to hurt people or they've gone fully native.

However, over the past several months – Harry had done a lot to cause Dean to question what he had believed in. There was a Rubbermaid at Bobby's with nearly a hundred or so odd letters written by the kid. Each talking about his life and what he had found about it. Each letter giving a wealth of insight that had Singer's Salvage Yard now more heavily warded than Fort Knox. Each letter depicting a world that was too incredible to believe and with the letters he had sent Dean, along with books and information that was apparently forbidden through the usual channels – yet somehow managed to find them.

It was hard not to realize how genuine Harry was. The kid through every letter and interaction reminded the eldest son of John that family was important. That to a kid who had grown up in an environment like he had; even if they were separated by miles of ocean that at least to the kid he had someone. After all, his little brother was cool! The nunchakus Harry gave him actually saved his life a couple of times! The first time he had used the nunchakus had been against the _duwende_ while the second had been against a poltergeist in Nebraska.

Green eyes met green. In that moment John knew and felt enraged just briefly at the fact that some kid who had been barely in their lives somehow magicked his way into his eldest child's heart.

"He's cast a spell on you." John muttered. "He's got to you. I've taught you better than this."

"Yeah you did." A certain resolve laced through Dean's words. "You told me that family was everything. That family is the only thing I had left and when it's gone, it's gone. I'm a great believer in that. You raised me to that school of thought. He also hasn't done any mumbo jumbo. He's clean and he's a teenager who got dealt a crappy hand. Do you think I didn't think about ways to kill him when I found out? No dad." Dean finally uttered, glare in his gaze. "He is not a monster spawn. If he was, you wouldn't have kept his picture in your front pocket."

"THEY ALL START OUT LIKE THAT DEAN!" roared John. "I told you once and I'm not telling you again."

"He's also a teenager like Sam and I were; rebellious assholes! The thing is – he's all the way across the Atlantic without a way to get to us yet. And he's been alone for a long time. Bobby told me that he's been writing to you. You even kept his fucking picure. Why don't you own up to that? And exactly how many letters were there dad? Last time I checked Bobby said there had only been two letters between you and his mother. There's a Rubbermaid bin at Bobby's with over a hundred of letters from Harry - all of them were untouched except for the first one he wrote to you. So when did you find out?"

John stared into his hands. He had made his mistakes and now one was coming back to bite him in the ass. "Damn it Dean. How do you know you're not under some spell?"

"Bobby checked for me, as did a number of people he trusted," Dean said. "I'm clean."

John turned his gaze to his son. Fear, anger, rage, confusion were all the emotions he felt at this time. The determination and weariness in Mary's eyes set in his eldest son's face were the very things the older Winchester was running away from.

"Pack up," John roughly ordered. "We're headed to Bobby's and I'm checking you over myself."

It wasn't the right answer or a good answer but it was what John had. He didn't know this kid from Adam and not only that – he didn't want to hear his mental voice berate himself. He had kept that picture for too long. Those green eyes too alike to Mary's set in a face that looked just like his when he had been younger.

Plenty of unsaid answers were drifting between the two. Dean also sent a quick text to Harry.

 _Dude, will call you back when I can.  
If you need to, just leave voicemail. _

**BACK AT HOGWARTS…**

"So, Gringotts," Ron murmured. "How the hell are we going to do this?"

There was silence in the Greenhouse. "We could probably do something about it." Fred finally stated looking at George who returned the glance. "Think he'll go for it?"

"Who's he?" Ginny asked them, eyebrow rose.

"Our associate at Gringotts," Fred said while George continued. "He's a straight bloke, wouldn't double cross him but he could get us an audience at least." (Fred interjected here.) "We recognize the name Harry mentioned in his note."

"Right," Hermione murmured. "If we're going to figure all this out – we'll need a space where no one can find us. Harry is obviously in the middle of something. The trouble is figuring out what."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thank you again for the follows and faves! The reviews too! :) Special mention to **DeliciousCookie** for the longer review with fantastic questions. Some of them having been answered while also bringing out even more frustrating questions. As for the rest, thank you for thinking this little piece of fanfiction is good enough to read. Special mentions will be in the next note if anyone can crack the code. Our little Harry's getting all snakey.


	6. Life on Mars

**THEN**

 _ **AUGUST 2003**_

 **12 Grimmauld Place  
** **Somewhere in London, UK**

When Remus, Kingsley and Moody had returned to Grimmauld Place – the Order meeting was in full swing. Vance, Jones and Diggle who had been part of the guard that had left the muggle home earlier already reported what they had seen. There had been a cacophony of noise when Tonks arrived. She went mostly unnoticed to the man who was technically her cousin. A feat since the woman was far too loud and colourful to be anything but noticed. She went straight to her cousin, whispering a few words into the man's ears. "Are you sure?"

"What?" Molly asked quickly. "What is it Sirius, Tonks?"

Tonks and Sirius shared a look much to the Weasley matriarch's dismay. "Please, excuse me."

The latter of the duo sped walked out of the dining area and up the stairs of the home. His eyes focused. Sirius even marched past Ron and Hermione. "You better be back in your rooms; wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of your mother's ire. Believe me."

He didn't break his gait as he finally reached the final steps to the family library. He knew approximately what he was searching for. He spelled open the door with the family's enchantment. He took a deep breath as he scoured the shelves. Finally, for what felt like half an hour he found it.

 _ **The Journal of Artemius Black**_

Flipping it open, he read a few lines and saw what he needed. He took a deep breath in and closed his eyes. "Damn."

When he arrived to the meeting place – no children within listening distance – he walked in just as Moody spoke.

"Potter's missing, not dead as this lot would have you believe. Tonks already told you that (here his eye swivelled to the purple haired woman whose roots were a lot darker than her ends). She had done reconnaissance on the upstairs floors; it had been clear."

"But the blood Moody – there was so much blood and that woman!" Vance was inconsolable. She had been the first to have arrived and when she had seen the body split into two pieces – she had apparated immediately along with Diggle and Jones.

"Yes, unfortunately Harry's relatives were killed when we arrived. From the looks of it – one of the muggles in the neighbourhood was the cause." Moody replied.

"No muggle could split a woman down into two like that!" Jones exclaimed. The implication of her words caused all in the room to look at her in shock.

"What about the wards protecting Potter?" Snape asked. "Not even the Dark Lord has deciphered the way to break them. He is too focused on other endeavours."

Dumbledore who hadn't been at the meeting the entire time finally appeared through the green flames of the floo. Thirty wands pointed his way as he stepped into focus. His face was pale, his beard seemed to sag and the colours of his robes (green with strange duck like details) were muted.

"The wards have broken around Harry's home." He whispered. His eyes locked on to six faces after scouring the crowd. He silently communicated with each before in a commanding tone spoke. "Severus, Black, Moody, Lupin, Tonks and Shacklebolt with me, unfortunately the rest of this meeting must be adjourned until some other time."

To the teenagers who had been eavesdropping on the meeting through a strange ear-like contraption. Everything that had just found out made the idea of war that much clearer. Hermione looked at Ron who returned the look. The duo shared the silent words long-time friends often did. Worry and concern overtaking them; the rest (the twins and Ginny shared glances).

"Whatever trouble Harry's in – I'm helping this time." Ginny stated looking pointedly at her youngest older brother.

 **\- 06. Life on Mars -**

 **THEN**

 _ **NOVEMBER 2003**_

 **Greenhouse One  
** **Hogwarts, UK**

Some things used to be simple. Gryffindors versus Slytherins (alright that still remained the same) or the taste of Butterbeer shared amongst friends. There was a comfort in the ability to slack when the time arose as well as the endless possibilities of creating havoc. Of course – Harry Potter and those associated with him would never have simplicity.

Neville watched from the sidelines as Hermione fixed the collars of one of the Weasley twins' robes. Her eyes concentrated as she stared at them. This was the big day since they had received Harry's pendants. According to Hermione, that had been the second and last form of communication they had had with the 'Boy-Who-Lived'.

The first time had been because they had sent a letter via Hedwig with a touch activated portkey. Apparently that hadn't gone very well because the owl had returned with a bullet hole shot through the parchment. Harry through some strange means had been able to send them a letter just before September 1.

That letter, Hermione had said, let everyone know not to worry and that he was still alive. He was safe and he hinted that he would return when he could. He also requested that someone keep Hedwig with them. The task of taking care of the owl often fell upon Ginny. The snowy owl seemed to appreciate and tolerate her most.

After that, apparently a package had appeared in front of Hermione while she was at the library. How that happened no one knew. Neville had a guess of course. He figured it had something to do with house elves. Still, at least they muddled through the contents of the package of pendants.

The code had been a bit mind boggling to decipher at the time at least to five out of the seven teenagers. Hermione finally figured it out but only through Luna's helpful advice. The fact the girl had gotten through the note the first time she saw it was testament that the blonde wasn't all that loopy or loony after all.

 _KLGLQJ_

 **Hiding**

 _JULQJRWWV_

 **Gringotts**

DVN 21215154312123

 **Ask Bloodclaw**

2026214 25050519 01180308010903 1821140519

 **TZUN YEE'S ARCHAIC RUNES**

Bloodclaw – the Weasley twins had realized was a high ranking Goblin officer. In fact the Goblin was the type of someone who had a personal army at his disposal. His power was such that he could get permission to cut heads both above the neck and below the neck should anyone try to cheat him. Through the Weasley twins' contact – Grappleneck – their business advisor and account overseer, they had been able to get an audience with him two weeks after tthat Saturday on their second last Hogsmeade weekend.

Looking over the fascinating texts they could find regarding Goblin etiquette, the twins felt they had everything in order and to their best interest. Well, they had a measly amount of gold to offer as a token of their gratitude (minimal since they weren't all that wealthy – yet).

This would explain why George and Fred got permission to use one of their Hogsmeade weekends to go to Diagon Alley. After all, they were both adults now.

"Alright, you have everything you need?" Hermione asked each twin. "The copy of the letter (they nodded), gold (again they nodded while Ron huffed impatiently) and pendants?" She was twisting her hands, looking over the twins in their wizarding robes looking like smart businessmen. Actually, she thought they looked quite sharp.

"Hermione," Ron sighed. "You've checked them over yourself twice already!"

He took a couple of steps back when she glared at him. He even looked out for her right fist. He had seen what she had done against Draco Malfoy back in Third Year. It had been brilliant at the time but by the look of the broken nose the Slytherin sported. Yeah, Ron didn't want to have anything to do with that.

"We're good Miss Granger," George said as Fred grinned loftily. "We'll be back at the time."

Everyone knew how important today was. In many ways it would answer their many questions and possibly get them into trouble.

"Well then, Hogsmeade?" Ginny stated, dispelling some of the tension that had flowed into the air. The seven teens made their getaway from the Greenhouse classroom, going to the familiar castle to join their fellow older years on their way to the small wizarding village. All the while wondering what the hell had happened to Harry.

"Mr. Weasleys," Professor McGonagall greeted the twins as they reached the appropriated apparition point. "I trust you will be back at the due time and no later."

"Of course, Professor," Was their synchronised response with George smiling. "We wouldn't dream of going against you."

"Indeed," she said stiffly. "And you lot?"

Ron looked up at her grinning awkwardly before looking at the tense face of Hermione, the dreamy look on Luna and the concentration in Ginny's frown. Neville returned Ron's look and shrugged. "Three Broomsticks," the redheaded boy finally blurted. "We're just heading there now. C'mon you lot. 'Mione?"

Hermione didn't respond sharing a look with Fred who gave the slightest nod. The twins left with a pop and the bushy haired witch followed after her friends. They didn't turn to see their Head of House share an uncomfortable conversation with the Pink Bitch.

"Hem, hem, are students allowed to do such things in Hogwarts?" asked Umbridge.

"It's the weekend Dolores and we are currently not in Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said simply. "Perhaps any concerns you have can be given to the Headmaster? Now if you shall excuse me, I have some lost looking Third Years over that need redirecting. Mr. Malcolm and Mr. Hill – I do hope you know…"

Her voice faded out while Dolores Umbridge glared at her. She redirected her gaze to the Three Broomsticks where she had seen five teenagers who had given her quite a headache disappear. She pursed her lips. This would simply not do. Not do at all.

 **ELSEWHERE…**

 **Singer's Salvage Yard  
Sioux Falls, SD**

"I may not have business in your family," Bobby hissed looking at the man in front of him. "He's still Dean. I'm just saying that –"

"Why is it after all these years you still have to put your foot in it Singer?" John interjected. "This one (here he glared at Dean) is still my son."

"Your sons," Dean finally had had it. "I'm one of your _sons_ , dad."

Both men looked at the young man sitting solemnly before them with a bottle of beer and the weariness of a man who'd seen too much. It was an odd look. Bobby saw that look far too many times and it damn near killed him more than any skinwalker, devil, witch, ghost or whatever dark thing was out there. He'd seen that look far too many times in that boy's eyes.

John returned his boy's stare. Hidden emotions roiled within those eyes.

"You raised Sammy and me to be hunters," Dean said solemnly. "You trained us to be the nightmare of those things that go bump in the night like that damn bastard you're still looking for. One thing's for certain, Harry is not a monster. He also never had it easy. Not from day one. You know what he wrote in his letters dad? The letters you're avoiding to read even if they're right in front of you?"

John had the decency to look chastised.

"He wrote to you, begging you to please take him away from his life. His aunt and uncle abuse him dad. Abuse him – he casually mentions being starved for days on end. He talks in his letters about beatings as if they're an everyday occurrence. The sad thing is I don't think he's lying." Dean paused. He hated sharing and caring, hated it. The Winchester men were not known for showing off their deep emotional wells of douchebaggery. Sammy being the exception and he wasn't around was he? "Now, I don't know what you want me to do here. I can't stop writing to him. I think I'm one of the steadiest people he's got at the moment. A kid like that – he needs someone like me around. So tell me what to do here because I don't know."

The silence in the house was palpable. Dean desperately wanted to be the good son, the son that listened to his father – the type of son John would approve. Yet he also believed in his principles. He knew that having a little brother like Sammy and now Harry – who had crawled into an empty space Dean didn't know he had in his heart – was always going to be difficult. He never realized that it also meant standing up to his father on this.

John closed his eyes and the fight that was in him was slowly crumbling. Looking at Dean, looking at those same green eyes that Mary had – it was as if her spirit was talking to him through their offspring.

"Dad, please, you've got to give me something to stand on." Dean tried one more time. "Dad, if I had weird mojo on me because of interacting with the kid – all the tests you, Bobby, Pastor Jim, that psychic – Missouri – all of the other stuff would have failed. You know nothing's weird about that boy except the wand waving bit."

"Damn it Dean," John sighed, crumpling his face to his hands. When one's son had more wisdom than you then something either went terribly right or was terribly wrong. "His mother, she had only written me two letters. Two – one out of courtesy and the second she sent out just before they went into hiding."

Here he looked up (no one said anything about the man's watering eyes) at both Dean and Bobby. He took a swig of his beer, letting the golden alcohol settle on his tongue before forcing it down to his somehow surviving liver.

"The woman was beautiful," he murmured. "Legs that went on for days but her eyes, those eyes reminded me of you mother. They were bright green and I was hooked. You and Sammy were at Bobby's at the time. I didn't want to bring you with me if there was even a chance that I had found a trail against the yellow-eyed demon."

"Make sense now," Bobby muttered into his beer. "That's got to have been about the time I was supposed to show him how to shoot and Jim had taken over looking after Sam while doing some research at my place."

John nodded. "I think I loved her. She was a woman so like Mary in her mannerisms and her smarts. She was British though which threw me off. I never thought I could find anyone else like your mother. I stayed there for nearly a month just getting to know her and hunting this thing called a _puckwudgie_."

"What," Dean exclaimed. "You fell for another girl? What the hell's a _puckwudgie_?"

Eyebrows rose, looks were shared and for a moment Dean realized his dad was still a man. Looking at his father with a quick glance, the younger man sighed deeply before trying to emulate the same gruff person his dad had. He hunkered down (figuratively) in his seat, taking a drink of beer.

"Pukwudgie's a creature, looks like a hobbit with englarged noses, fingers and ears. They're from Wampanog folklore and were once friendly to humans before they started stealing kids." Bobby answered. "They're best to be left alone and you were hunting one out all the way in Massachusetts?"

John nodded. "Thing had gotten a hold of an entirely abandoned farm. Any time new owners tried to buy the land – everyone involved in the purchase were killed. It was strange enough to get on to everyone's radar. Plus apparently the thing had amassed soul jars of every kill."

In unison three men lifted their preferred drinks and drank.

"Lily was running from something more though," John said. "I knew that from the first moment I spoke to her. Her best friend, Alice who was with her, was doing the same thing. They kept going on about some statute that I could never find evidence of."

"The Statute of Secrecy," Dean muttered – he grinned over his drink shaking his head. Looking up he saw both his dad and Bobby give him looks. "What? I read all of Harry's letters – he told me, well you dad – a lot about his world. It's interesting."

"Hm," Bobby huffed just as John raised his brows and continued with his explanation. "Whatever the case, I went snooping around the farm. I figured it had something to do with the lore of the area, did some research but got it wrong. The creature damn near killed me. It tore into my arm and got me with this poison thing. Lily for some odd reason figured out what I was. Said she came from a family of hunters too before saving my ass with her witchy powers. I damn near killed her after witnessing it."

Everyone drank some more.

"She proved herself to me though, same thing with her friend Alice. I was hurt and tore up so they dealt with the pukwudgie in their way while patching me up in the process. Lily nearly got herself injured to bloody hell when the thing nearly got her with one of its arrows. Alice stopped it in time enough for Lils to finish it off. I had never seen a woman fight like that before. Never even seen your mother do anything like that and she was a tough woman. Yet there Lily was all fire and brimstone. They asked me to let them go. For some fool reason I did." John whispered. "I had to leave her then but remembered what it felt like being in her presence. That woman was all sorts of wonderful before I found out about her magic. Shortly after that I had to deal with another witch who got her powers through the usual means. It broke something in me son. It didn't help that when I went to check one of my mailboxes, Lily sent me a letter to let me know she was pregnant and that it had to have been my son. She even gave me an address to write to her if I had anything else to say."

John closed his eyes. Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose wondering when the headache he was getting would go away. Bobby just took another swig from his flask.

"I responded of course and asked her what she would call the kid. Didn't hear back from her for nearly sixteen months and by then we were out traveling a lot." John sighed. "She sent me a picture of Harry at that point. She said she named him after her dad James and my dad, Henry."

"Bitch," Dean hissed – not meant to be aloud but as a reaction to hearing some woman he'd never met and would never meet decided to use something painful from John's past like that. "But Harry doesn't have Henry for a name anywhere."

John chuckled. "Mom used to call my dad Harry when I was young, I still remember it. Damn, I hate this."

Dan blinked looking at his father who took one more swig of drink. Bobby by that point had crossed over to his study at some point, looking at one of his books, leaving father and son together.

"Hate what?"

"I hate it when you get it right." John said. "Look, I'm not going to stop you from talking to Harry again. Just don't ask me to talk to him. He doesn't need to know me or this life."

"Too late for that," Dean chuckled darkly. "Someone's already after the kid."

Two eyes stared at the younger man who shook his head. "What?"

It was going to be a long night.

 **THEN**

 _ **JANUARY 2004**_

 **Empty Classroom  
** **Close to the Kitchens  
** **Hogwarts, UK**

It was a solemn group that had met that first week in January.

"A snake attack in the middle of the ministry?" Neville asked. "Why would a snake be there?"

Five out of the other teens in the room gave him varying expressions. The twins were pale and drawn, serious by the expression of their eyebrows. Ron was sullen whilst Ginny was expressionless. Luna was quiet as she surveyed the others.

"We don't really know," Hermione spoke. "When I arrived there – Mr. Weasley had been bit and almost hadn't made it through the night. Apparently the only way he had gotten out as because of Dobby. Someone – we're thinking Harry – somehow knew that he had been in danger."

"We can't pin everything on Harry." Ron hissed. "He couldn't have known there would have been an attack. We're the only ones with the pendants right?"

"Yes but remember what Harry wrote to us through the book?" Hermione argued. "He said that the pendants would heat should any of us or those related to us be in danger. I remember that around that time at dinner you, the twins and Ginny thought it strange that your pendants were completely hot."

"Yeah but that wouldn't have explained Dobby." Ginny finally interjected looking at the brunette. "Someone would have had called him and if he doesn't have an owner then how could Harry have called for him to do even that much?"

"Hermione is right Gin," Fred said just as George looked over to his twin. For the first time in their history, they didn't share the same thought. "Bloodclaw when he gave us the book said that the pendants we wore were strange. Said that they were powered through some sort of soul link and that whoever crafted them was indeed mastering arts beyond the norm."

"If that's the case it still doesn't explain how Harry knew about your dad being in danger." Neville stated going back to the point.

Luna who had been quiet up to that point finally murmured something. "Maybe, he has a pendant of his own?"

Six pairs of eyes looked her way. Ginny instinctively reached for the comforting silver piece at her neck. She rubbed her fingers around the edge, feeling comforted by the metal.

"That only explains one part of the equation." Hermione murmured. "I mean if Harry has one of his own – how is he linking his soul to us through these? Isn't that also dark magic?"

There was a silence in the room. George who hadn't said anything much that evening had blankly looked down upon the Marauder's Map. Apparently Harry re-bequeathed it to the twins after they picked up the book from Bloodclaw (amongst other things).

"Look alive, ladies and gents," He uttered as Fred hissed. "The Toad."

With that seven teens waited with bated breath as a number of steps stood outside the door only to be turned around. The privacy wards Hermione had placed on the classroom taking effect. It had been a good deal of studying on her part. There was a visible sigh in the room when her steps turned away.

"We need another room." Ron said.

"Yeah, one for shenanigans," Ginny retorted. "A room designed for Mischief Makers, Troublesome Plots and Rebellious Students."

The twins looked at her suddenly and it was if a light went off. "We know just the place."

 **THEN**

 _ **FEBRUARY 2004**_

 **Near Bolham, UK**

Peckeridge Hall was an ugly, dilapidated mansion that had once been the hotspot of the area of the upperclass in town. It had been owned by Mr. Peter Peckeridge and his family ever since 1780.

"Twenty-three years ago, William Hunterby, the grandnephew of the last serving butler and named Steward of Peckeridge Hall had died of a heart attack at the age of thirty-three. Due to the circumstances of the family, the estate had been handed over to Clinton Lewis – the descendant of the Peckeridge family's second most trusted staff member the stable hand Horton Lewis. Mr. Clinton Lewis then sold it to Georgia Parent Real Estate to keep in holdings until someone from a – Cushing family – took over the management of the property in its entirety." Harry finished looking up at Nathan. "Nearly a quarter century and that many hands have been all over that property? Is that normal?"

"Sometimes," Nathan replied. "Until the house goes into a Trust."

They pored over the documents they had procured from the local library. This was the second hunt they were doing together while Sarah looked after Mark in the Safehouse near Bristol. So far it had been a quiet afternoon. The researching for information was a thing that Harry had hated at the start. Usually Hermione worked on the details. Harry figured it out as he went along. He never realized how much he had relied on her. Of course being taught by Nathan how to hunt…

"There have been twenty-three deaths since Mr. Peckeridge died and Mr. Lewis owned it. Twenty-three victims who had gone at some point to the estate." Harry said. "That's odd isn't it?"

"Perhaps, although it could be anything up there," Nathan replied. "Vengeful spirits have a way of remaining even after all their bones have been burned or buried."

Harry rubbed the left side of his face in frustration. "That's twenty-three bodies. What if there's more?"

"We've got some time. Now, who is the current owner of the property?" Nathan asked.

"At this point, based on this information the current owner of the property is a Thomas McMichael. He lives in Bolham proper, owner of a pub." Harry replied reviewing the reams of notes he had in front of him.

"Then I know what I have to do," Nathan grinned. "There is always a reason for a vengeful spirit. As you are still considered underage to enter such an establishment I'll head over to the pub while I get us some lunch."

"But – where – damn." Harry cursed watching as the older man put on his jacket and walked out the door.

There had to be a connection in this somehow. Twenty-three years, twenty-three victims – where was the starting point? Reviewing the info, he wondered at the peculiar way the property was handed down before landing on the last name of Cushing. Something niggled at the back of his mind. With Nathan out of the room, he needed someone to discuss what his intuition was telling him. Looking at the time, he knew it was probably late but he had had to try. He needed a bloody starting point and he was still too new to this sort of scene. The phone rang and mentally Harry asked whoever was up there that his brother was still awake. After all eleven o'clock on – what was it a Friday night – that was prime hour over stateside.

"Hello." The familiar voice greeted gruffly.

"Hey Dean," Harry replied. "It's Harry."

"Yeah," the familiar voice murmured. Harry could hear some shuffling in the background. "How are you doing kid?"

"Could be worse – er – just wanted to call you and let you know what I'm hunting."

There was a beat before his brother's baritone reverberated in his ear.

"WHAT?" Over the past few months of getting to know his brother (practically calling him every other day – it was probably annoying the older guy but he'd never said anything otherwise) Harry recognized that tone. "Harry." The teen winced at _that_ tone as well.

"It's alright I'm not at it alone." Harry replied hastily.

"Not the point Harry. Why are you hunting? Who are you hunting with?"

"I – uh – it's complicated," Harry began.

"Then un-complicate it."

"Look, remember the man who I told you about back in September?" Harry hastily stated.

"Nathan," Dean said – he seemed to have sounded off. "He's a hunter."

"Yeah – both he and his wife," Harry said. "Er – well, I'm on my second hunt with him. It's a weird one and I don't really know where to start."

Harry proceeded to explain everything to his brother he had been working on. His brother remained on the phone, listening and giving him some ideas on how to handle the current investigation. After hanging up the phone, Dean stared at the technology before stuffing it down the pocket of his jacket. He looked at the back of the trunk of the Impala with a dark stare.

"Dean." John barked from behind him. "What's taking you so long?"

"Yeah, just got off the phone with Sammy," Dean retorted back (a lie). "He's good."

"Hm, those things don't clean themselves. You take that into the room and sort them out. I'll get us something to eat and some gas." John ordered.

Dean let his dad's voice wash over him all the while thinking, family business indeed.

 **THEN**

 _ **JUNE 2004**_

 **Umbridge's Office  
** **Hogwarts, UK**

Their plan to break into Umbridge's office had been an egotistic one. They really just wanted to mess around with the woman's head. She and her Inquisitorial Squad had been after them for a while. They had speculated that the entire lot could be possessed by demons. Apparently it was impossible for demons to possess witches and wizards; something about their magic repelling demons naturally according to Hermione's research. However, nothing was impossible and couldn't be discounted according to Luna who mentioned something along the lines of the proper tools. The signs had been there.

They were planning on outfitting the witch's office with salt and possibly a devil's trap.

The Pink Bitch made him re-think his strategy. Ronald Weasley was currently locked in Umbitch's grip by the roots of his red hair while his sister, Luna, Neville and Hermione were in the middle of scuffling against members of the Inquisitorial Squad.

"I am unsurprised Mr. Weasley at your presence here today." He grimaced at her nails to chalkboard voice. "Indeed, all of you in my office today have cemented my beliefs that Hogwarts has become a cesspool of idiocy. Did you think your lie about the poltergeist wreaking havoc in the Transfiguration classroom would work? Filch has just told me that ghastly thing's whereabouts before you kindly informed me."

Neville who was locked in a chokehold thanks to Crabbe was looking like he was ready to suffocate. Ron observed Ginny who struggling against the abnormally large Slytherin girl who had had a hold of her. The rest were in similar types of positions. Luna hung limply in her captor's embrace. It was the image of Draco Malfoy manhandling Hermione by basically groping her private areas that made him burn.

"You let them go!" He growled.

"Not until you tell me what you are doing in my office." Came her sharp reply.

"Go to hell," Ron hissed back. "You and your bloody goons are nothing but – "

SMACK! His head ricocheted into the bitch's desk where she had had him pinned. The woman was completely and insanely out of control. He took a deep breath in – trying to calm down. He needed to do what Harry would have done, not run off his mouth. Although, that's exactly what Harry would have done so – perhaps the response was a good thing. The stars in his vision were not helping nor were the chuckles coming out of the wastes of space that were the Inquisitorial Squad.

"You listen to me you little bastard," suddenly the pink bitch's eyes turned black from the pupils to the whites of her eyes. "You will tell me what your plan was in here and your friends don't die. I didn't overtake this disgusting piece of meat after being expelled after the last one. I _**know**_ you and your little friends are connected to that scar-headed freak and you _**will**_ tell me where he is."

He pursed his lips and it was only when the door behind them opening that stopped th-e process. Ron moved when the evil creature did. He felt his insides quake.

"Mr. Snape," the saccharine sweet voice exclaimed. "I do hope you have more Veritaserum for me."

The Potions Master's gaze was undiscernible. His eyebrows rose. Ron took that moment to start whispering under his breath, "Christo."

All hell broke loose.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Wow two uploaded chapters in two days for the same story. If I make it three then we know this story's got a hold of me. Thank you again for the follows and favourites. I may be quiet on this fic for a bit since I've got two other works in progress (looks sheepishly) that I'm slightly neglecting. Also no one cracked the code (was it too hard?). That said – please continue to review, follow and fave – it brings me joy and inspiration to push further in these updates. Thank you very much once again for liking this fic!


	7. Pinball Wizard

**THEN**

 **4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging, UK **

Seven pops appeared at the wrecked remains of the Dursley home. The bearded man with the strange robes and his entourage walked in through the back door of the home. Severus Snape followed behind him only to feel a sudden sickness in his stomach. None had disturbed the home since the incident just a couple of hours before.

"Remus, Sirius – this symbol – would you know of it?" Albus asked peering through half-moon glasses looking gravely at the younger men in question. Black and Lupin looked every bit as pale and pasty as they did in their youth when caught in the act. Severus focused on that and not the body parts lying about. He surveyed the living room and the strange marking around one of the chairs. It was done in blood, although it seemed as if completed in haste. He relegated the Headmaster's urgent voice to the back of his mind. "Time is of the essence gentlemen. There's a young man out there in terrible danger against forces beyond our own knowledge!"

"That is a demon trap." Black finally said looking up. Lupin seemed to grip his wand and glare down at his feet. "I have to tell him, I'm sorry my friend, but this has somehow become more than just a Dark Lord that refuses to die."

"A demon trap?" Nymphadora asked.

"Yes," Remus finally sighed. Alastor and Kingsley looked to the werewolf who seemed to sag with the weight of the revelation. "This is often used to trap them. I saw it once before when I was a child."

"Hunters use them." Sirius responded. He held up a leather bound journal. "My ancestor Artemius was caught up in them around the time of someone name Helsing."

As the chatter rose around him, one thought became clear in Severus' mind. Demons in Little Whinging, preposterous!

 **\- 07. Pinball Wizard –**

 **THEN**

 **Umbridge's Office  
Hogwarts, UK **

The being holding him down hissed as something white was flung at her. "Bastard!"

Ron couldn't see as Professor Snape swung his wand pelting Umbridge with white salt rocks. He uttered a loud groan as his head was bashed on to the desk. An unearthly screech rang out through the air. A soft baritone voice quietly uttered words. Ron didn't hear it nor understand it.

His ears were ringing. Stars and was that blood? He felt himself slide off the desk even as a wave of energy pulled apart the room. Professor Snape was flung out into the hall while the door closed.

"YOU EVIL LITTLE ABOMINATIONS!" screamed Umbridge – right the demon.

The distraction Professor Snape gave them was enough for both Neville and Hermione to take down their tormentors in a rough scuffle. Malfoy was a whining, crying mess on the ground. Luna in her quiet way had managed to use the distraction to slip from her captor's grasp. She was now hidden from the shadows relatively close to where Ginny had fallen unconsciously to the ground. Bulstrode, Parkinson, Goyle and Crabbe were in various states of unconsciousness or confusion as well.

Ron, although weak still had his wand and a bit of a will. He also had a bottle of liquid (one of seven) that they had obtained from Hermione's parents' parish. The pink demon stretched out her hand and everyone began coughing. To the redhead's horror as his body convulsed – he could taste blood.

With everything in him, he found the bottle where the cap could flick open. It rolled out of his grasp and on to the floor. The bitch glared at him with those inhuman eyes levitating him upwards. "I'm going to crush you!"

Hermione screaming no didn't notice as Luna quietly summoned the bottle which had fallen from Ronald's grasp. Ron was in the air feeling as if everything within him was being crushed internally. His mouth was hoarse and he was choking in such a way. Those in the room could hear yells and spells but the door remained closed.

"I am going to rip you from limb to limb." The creature hissed as more blood began pouring out of his mouth. The redhead knew he was going to die that day. He knew it. He was in agony until he was suddenly dropped. He felt things crack, pain unimaginable. Fuck. Then there was sweet, sweet darkness.

 **ELSEWHERE…**

 **Safehouse  
Outside of Leeds, UK **

He had been writing in his journal when the pain erupted at his chest. With an impressive shout – he called for one of two house elves who deemed him trustworthy. "DOBBY!" He was alone in the new Safehouse while Sarah and Mark went out shopping for groceries as well as Nathan was looking up some of his worldwide contacts. The plan currently was to figure out what a _horcrux_ was and what could kill it off. They had left Harry alone for the time being to safeguard the house while being surrounded by some of the stronger wards in the world.

"Yous called Great Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby asked with a shaking of his fingers and wide, worried eyes.

Harry gasped aloud clutching at his chest. "R-r-Ron. T-t-take me to Ron."

The House Elf shakily took hold of the outstretched hand Harry gave him and disappeared with barely a rustle of air.

 **BACK AT HOGWARTS**

There was a crack in the air and a nasty giggle that turned to a fierce growl.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus. Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio – "

"NO!"

Pause.

The characters we see in this sequence are together in one room. Six of them are unconscious – two redheads and four background players with green and silver ties. One of the antagonists in the scene with platinum blonde hair has taken to cowering in a corner clutching at his bruised family jewels. A tall boy with dark hair is struggling to stay standing as he clung to a tearful curly haired brunette. Both looked ruffled even with wands in their hands. Then lastly, a blonde haired character, a slight and petite creature with eyes that seemed to know more than they ought. She stayed beside one of the unconscious redheads. Those who were awake watched through blurred eyes – caught in shock.

"Oof!" Twin grunts could be heard as a tiny creature was pinned to the wall. The horrid cat mementos rattled as a teenager with midnight black hair struggled against the force in front of him.

"Well, well, well!" Umbridge grinned. "Look who joined the party and trying to get rid of my invite!"

The teen struggling against the wall saw something most didn't see. "That body must be wearing thin."

The woman hissed. "Brat, I've been looking for you since your poor dear auntie bled out into two pieces. That's a nasty trick."

"Wait to kill me, might just have a few more," here the teen coughed. "Maybe some (blood poured from his mouth) holy water too."

"Oh no, not this – " the woman screeched distracted as both teenager and the little creature tumbled down to the ground in rumpled heaps. A blonde girl had already opened the cap of the bottle Ron had towards the demon in pink.

The brunette and her tall friend were holding out bottles also. All three had been used against the demon in the woman. The 125 mL bottles contained Holy Water, blessed by a priest. From their places in the office, they were able to use their magic to levitate the spraying water towards the creature. When the water hit, it seemed to fry the thing inside the woman in the now torn up pink suit she loved to wear. The teen that had just arrived began speaking loudly, " _Omnis sataanica otestas, omnis incursion infernalis adversarii, omnis congregation et secta diabolica._ (He was joined by the curly haired brunette at this stage.) _Ergo, draco maledicte. Ecclesiam tuam secure tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos."_

There was another scream and the whole room rattled. Black smoke escaped from the mouth of the pink witch. Swiftly it fled through realms unseen that even the ghosts of Hogwarts fled to the darker halls to be away from the evil spirit. The foundations of Hogwarts groaned. Every person, creature and spirit in the area felt the unholy tremor. It was a dark power one that hadn't been felt in that region in nearly a hundred years.

When the shaking lessened; a soft gasp of peace entered the air.

"Harry?"

Green eyes looked upon his friends. There was a pain, regret and solemn resolution in those depths. The silence lasted an age when in reality – it had lasted forty-five seconds. Everyone tried to catch their breath. Their adversary, the witch dressed in pink was on the ground groaning as if she was waking up from a long nightmare.

"Dobby, take me back." Harry whispered to the House Elf who hadn't left his side. The creature disappeared with a cry from the brunette witch. A platoon of witches and wizards led by a long bearded Headmaster entered the room just as the teenaged boy disappeared. Everything in the room since Severus Snape entered the scene lasted all of twelve minutes. Twelve minutes where some teens felt like the only one who could clarify things had abandoned them.

 **ELSEWHERE…**

 **Safehouse  
Outside of Leeds, UK **

It had been a year since he had last seen his friends. Gasping for breath he looked at the worried House Elf before him. "D-dobby, thanks."

"Anything for the great Harry Potter sir! Great evil that was! Great evil!" Dobby wringed his hands and looked around the room they were in.

The House Elf was Harry's only connection and friend to the magical world. Giving away that the house elf had been helping him – that was going to be a bother. "Yes, um," He gasped as he staggered towards the trunk at the edge of the foot of his bed. They had landed back in the bedroom he had been using in the Safehouse and he needed medical supplies.

The usually excitable House Elf drooped. "Dobby has never seen such great evil Harry Potter."

"Yes, that was a demon." Harry mentioned as he opened his trunk. Looking at the well-used tin that housed his supplies, the teen quickly unbuttoned his dress-shirt and flipped his shirt over his head with a groan.

"A demon?" Dobby yelped in shock. "In Hogwarts? Oh dear, oh dear the others must be warned!"

"Er, yes, before you do that, Dobby could you please help me with this?" Harry groaned flipping open the tin.

"Dobby will do anything to help Harry Potter!" the House Elf's eyes grew quite large at the markings on the teen's chest. It was a larger version of the _shrivatsa_ on the pendants he had given to his friends. His first tattoo if you would.

"Harry Potter has been hurt!" With a snap, Harry was laying on his bed, a tiny house elf fussing about his chest with tiny hands. The teen protested with, "Dobby, no – please remember do not use magic!"

The teen's chest was red and one section of the tattoo seemed to have blistered over. "Dobby will look after Mr. Harry Potter. Dobby will also fetch Noddy and Winky. Dobby will return in fifteen seconds, Harry Potter must remain like this."

The House Elf quickly disappeared leaving the teen laying on the bed. Harry groaned unable to move properly. The magic the House Elf used kept him in a sort of version of the _Petrificus Totalus_ that Hermione had used on Neville from First Year.

Fifteen seconds later, three House Elves appeared. "Yous a bad House Elf!" One of them cried shrilly.

"Harry Potter sir!" That one was familiar.

It was interesting to be a teen boy fussed and prodded by House Elves. The magic they held was unlike normal witches and wizards. The one House Elf Harry didn't recognize must have been Winky. Dobby was excitable although graver than usual. Noddy who had more experience healing humans seemed to wash out the blistered area softly while Dobby argued with the one called Winky.

"Winky be knowing potions that can help." Dobby said, wringing his hands. "Please, let us help the great Harry Potter."

"Winky would not take potions from her master!"

"Dobby and Winky are Free Elves! Dobby – "

"The shame!" Winky cried.

"Noddy thinks both Dobby and Winky need to be quiet." Noddy said. He was an older House Elf with lines about his eyes and a kind look. "Noddy needs potions, Winky be getting them from the Head Snakey and Dobby be stand watch."

Winky looked at Noddy aghast. "Noddy be joking!"

"Noddy does not joke."

"THE SHAME!" Winky exclaimed. "Winky's a good House Elf!"

Dobby sighed. "Winky be stand watch and Dobby be getting potions."

By this point, Harry who had been knackered from his run in with the demon felt an odd sensation to his chest. "UGH!"

Three pairs of bulbous eyes looked his way. The spot that blistered seemed to get worse. Winky stared at the boy with fear and trembling. Finally she quickly looked to Dobby. "Dobby be getting potions, Winky help here."

'House Elves,' Harry thought as he went with a sigh into blissful darkness. 'Never underestimate them.'

 **BACK AT HOGWARTS**

Severus Snape thought of himself as logical. Indeed, he followed a most straightforward art – potioneering was a craft that when done right bred tangible magic. However, demonic possession in Hogwarts was not logical.

"A demon in Hogwarts," He sneered peering at the work that Madam Pomfrey was doing on one of the Weasley brats who was a little worse for wear. "Impossible."

"It's true." The Granger girl argued. "We saw it! Please believe us Professor (here she directed her gaze to the twinkling blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore). We had been reading on demonic possessions since the beginning of the year. Since Harry disappeared and those rumours began and we couldn't just sit around and do nothing! There hasn't been a demon in Hogwarts in over a hundred years but we noticed signs and – "

"Breathe Hermione." Neville soothed placing a comforting hand upon her shoulder. The curly haired brunette took a shaky inhale.

"Thank you Miss Granger," the Headmaster said. "Thank you. How did it stop?"

"H-harry, sir," Neville replied in her stead. "He was here."

Severus thought over what the teenagers were saying. He surveyed the cat covered walls of the school and the strange mess of blood about the room. His students were looked over and decidedly unbruised. Bultrode, Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy were quickly sent to their Professor's office to await questioning. He would have words with them – Inquistorial Squad aside. Dolores Umbridge was reclined in a chair, feet propped up with her head lolling to one side and eyes closed. She was breathing harshly as if deep in sleep. Meanwhile one of the other Weasley brats was speaking quietly alongside another blonde with McGonagall and Flitwick.

"Indeed," the Headmaster murmured. "He was here? Alone?"

"Y-yes." Neville replied. That had been a surprise, the boy was lying. Severus frowned at that.

 **MEANWHILE…**

 **Safehouse  
Outside of Leeds, UK **

When Harry Potter was a Second Year during the time he spent researching creatures that could petrify students with Hermione and Ron; he came across a book. It was a book called _Runes and Symbols of Protection_ by a wizard named Tzun Yee. He became engrossed in the topic and started reading all he could about it including books on Arithmancy as apparently Runes could be used to make magical wards stronger.

He kept his love of both topics from his friends. Delving into both topics with a will any chance he had – covering and learning the basics before the summer of Third Year.

Since Dean had sent him a demon banishing ritual in January 2003, Harry delved further into his studies. Inspired by the Weasley Clock, he wanted to create something similar in order to protect his family and friends. By September of the past year, he had finally figured out the runic schema with the appropriate arithmetical equations that could do so. However, it required blood and pain.

After all, there were different ways to stop demonic possession and to protect those you loved.

"Dobby has brought potions for Noddy." Dobby said quickly. "Harry Potter will be better soon."

It was like a set up to a bad joke. What does one get with three House Elves, four potions and an injured wizard?

"Muggles!" Winky hissed. Noddy applied charms of hot water on the boy's chest to clean off the pus that had become present around a certain name. Between him and Dobby, they applied the blister remedial lotion on the affected area, watching carefully as the cream quickly took away the redness of the area. The boy sighed in relief.

"Noddy be getting back to kitchens." The older House Elf said. Winky looked at Noddy and both quickly returned to their duties at Hogwarts. Dobby remained knowing in his way that perhaps it would be safer if he stayed with the injured teen. He stayed by the boy's side as the teen returned to consciousness.

"Master Harry Potter sir!" Dobby grinned. "Yous be better soon!"

"Dobby, thank you, hm," Harry sat up and took stock of his tattoo. The blistering was not as bad as before. Ron's name was no longer red and ugly. "What's this?"

"Healing lotions and potions from the Snakey Head!" Dobby replied. "Dobby be taking them to help heal Harry Potter sir. Noddy and Winky helped. Dobby thought it important to have back up instead of Dobby doing most of the work."

Harry smiled. "Thank you."

"Muggles be coming back. Harry Potter be calling if yous need anything!"

"Yes, of course," Harry whispered with a sigh. "Um, Dobby – I don't want you to be getting into trouble for helping me."

"Dobby is a free elf! Dobby will gladly help Harry Potter." The creature replied gleefully. "Dobby be going now. He be hiding at Hogwarts. He will help Harry Potter and Harry Potter's friends from now on."

With a snap Dobby disappeared just as Nathan entered the room with a gun in hand. Harry groaned seeing his guardian. Today was supposed to be a quiet day.

"Harry?" Nathan asked then saw the blistering around the tattoo on the boy's chest. "I thought that healed!"

"Yeah, another one got injured." Harry whispered with a shrug. The disapproving, disappointed look on Nathan's face explained it all.

"Tattoos should not have any ability like that whatsoever." The gruff man stated.

"It doesn't, it's only supposed to heat up to warn me if someone is being hurt. I don't know why it reacted the way it's been doing lately. My calculations on how this is supposed to work may be a bit off and I may have missed something along the way." Harry groaned.

Nathan looked at him for a cool moment. He thought about the pendant he wore about his own neck with a sigh. "It still doesn't make sense to me."

"Still?"

"Cheeky," The older hunter gestured. "What is this?"

"Potions and lotions, I think they are supposed to help with this (gesturing to his chest) but I am not a thousand percent certain." Harry replied.

"Sarah and Mark will be back soon from the store, we may as well take a quick look at that." Nathan finally said, words not mentioned between them. Harry sighed and allowed his help. Noddy and Dobby had done their best applying their brand of magic by pouring warm water over the blisters and cleaning out the wound. They had only applied a scant amount of the blister remedial cream to bite down on the swelling red sore around the area but not enough to heal it completely.

"I'm going to have to fix my tattoo somehow," Harry muttered. "Although since there's my blood in the ink used to etch this thing on my chest as well as the ink used to transfer the runes on to the pendants; it may be a bit more complicated to do so.

Nathan grunted out an acknowledgment. The lad was just as good at getting out of trouble as getting into it. He knew the repercussions of the night had yet to sink in for Harry. Of course, things were going to get more complicated when Nathan's phone rang with a frantic Mark on the phone.

"It's _them_ Nate, they've found us!"

Both Nathan and Harry shared a look. The pair, without much ado, quickly packed up and suited up. Nathan frantically asked his adoptive son where they were before the duo headed off into the wilds of Leeds.

After all, there were more than just demons out there to hunt.

 **ELSEWHERE…**

 **Gryffindor Girl's Dormitory**

 **Hogwarts, UK**

Hermione stared at the book in her hands. Tzun Yee's _Archaic_ – her eyes skimmed the title before opening it once more. It was not really a full book about runes. In fact it was a leather bound journal in Harry's handwriting. Inside were pictures and words of things he had wanted to pass on to his friends.

 _Look I'm not going to lie, I'm in hiding. I think it's the best strategic move, sort of like that move Ron likes to use to do with the King and Queen where the king is hidden for the sneak attack on Checkmate. As you know Dark Lords are hard to kill. Before I was captured this being – a demon – said a word. Horcrukcs (can you track down what that means)? I think it best I have minimal contact with you as much as possible. Perhaps I'm also a bit sore you forgot to write me during these past summer holidays. Then again with the way things are going, we'll be in war soon._

 _The pendants I gave you are protective. They will heat up if you get in trouble and are linked to people you care for as well (immediate family if you will). Somehow, someway help will get to you. Just keep the pendants on at all times._

Hermione touched the pendant hanging around her neck. A thoughtful look crossed her face. Harry hadn't wanted to be found. He went into hiding for a reason and if by his actions alone…he wanted to stay hidden.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** And there we have it! Thank you once again for follows, reviews and presentations. Cheers, Dae


	8. Slip Kid

**THE ROAD SO FAR…** _  
_  
**Voicemail from Harry Potter to Dean Winchester's Main Voicemail – June 09, 2004**

"Dean it's me, look, can you give me a call? I'm in trouble, I need help. Please."

* * *

 **Voicemail from Harry Potter to Dean Winchester's Other Voicemail** – **June 10, 2004**

"Dean it's Harry, please call me, it's important.

* * *

 **Voicemail from Harry Potter to Dean Winchester's Other, Other Voicemail – June 11, 2004**

"Dean, what are you hunting that you can't call me back?"

* * *

 **A Conversation between Harry Potter and Dean Winchester** – **June 12, 2004**

DEAN: Hi.

HARRY: Dean?

DEAN: Yeh?

HARRY: Thank Merlin, look it's me –

DEAN: Oh.

HARRY: Oh? Look I've been –

DEAN: Just leave a message.

HARRY: Fuck.

* * *

 **Voicemail from Harry Potter to Dean Winchester's Main Voicemail – June 13, 2004**

"You're an arse."

* * *

 **Voicemail from Harry Potter to Dean Winchester's Other Voicemail – June 14, 2004**

"Git."

* * *

 **June 14, 2004**

 **To: dwramblin**

 **Fr: hjp0731**

dean,

this is my first electronic message. i am sending this to you hoping you'll get it faster than hedwig can fly. international mail even for magic users is terrible. lots of things happened since i last called you. harrisons are dead, long story. my school got attacked by a demon professor. lost magic. bastard is still after me. call me, please.

\- h

* * *

 **Voicemail from Dean Winchester to Harry Potter's Voicemail – June 14, 2004**

"Brit got all your messages, dude – arse, git? You better not have been wearing tweed when you said that. Look, I'm recovering from an aswang attack. The thing nearly got me. I'm at Bobby's. Here's his number…"

* * *

 **A Conversation between Harry Potter, Dean Winchester and Bobby Singer – June 15, 2004**

BOBBY: Singer Auto Salvage.

HARRY: Hello, is this Bobby?

BOBBY: Harry?

HARRY: Er, yes. Hello. Is, er Dean there?

(There is shuffling as background noise, a grunt of pain and a genuine "Bobby, is that him?")

BOBBY: Yer brother thinks he's well enough for this conversation. Talk boy.

(There was another shuffling sound, a muffled "Bobby!")

HARRY: I'd rather speak with Dean.

BOBBY: You sure? He's – oof!

DEAN: Harry! Man, talk to me.

HARRY: Right. Dean, you got my messages?

DEAN: Yeah, all of them. So what's your plan now?

HARRY: I – I need a place to stay. Things the way they are, it's a bit complicated.

DEAN: I got all night.

HARRY: (takes a deep breath)

 **\- 08. SLIP KID -**

 **PRESENT**

 **Somewhere over the Atlantic**

"You alright kid?" The man beside him (Jacob Yelstin, a moderately successful literary agent) looked at him curiously.

He gave a shrug, turning his gaze to the window outside. He needed silence but it was just his luck to be sitting beside a man who – "I don't like flying myself," Jacob decided to continue. "Too much of a hassle but I do it for my job. Aren't you a little young to be doing something like this by yourself?"

One who decided he would make the best sitting and listening companion. He wondered what sort of look he had to garner such attention. He knew he was still going through a growth spurt and his face had that same tired, pinched look around the eyes.

"No," he finally responded to the man's question. "I think we're about to go up."

"Damn – think we'll experience turbulence?"

The boy shrugged and shifted away from his seat partner. This was going to be a long flight.

* * *

 **BACKFLASH**

 **Leeds, UK**

It was almost too easy.

The Morrigan is known as a three-fold war goddess. She was once worshipped and loved by the Celts for being not only a symbol of death but could influence the outcome of war. She often received offerings of cattle alongside the blood of the men that fought in her name. Of course, she was also like any pagan goddess. Easily offended.

When the Evans family came across one of her more artful acts of violence, the Morrigan was offended by the way they wanted to kill her. After all killing two families who once worshipped her but no longer did was nothing new. She needed blood after all. Until of course that Huntsman family got in her way. That Evans family was so nosy. Then of course she had to take them out. All of them; since why would they want to kill her with a bull's horn soaked in the blood of her last two families? She wasn't doing anything wrong.

Right, well they went too far and she declared war on them.

She got them too. Mr. and Mrs. Evans – they screamed as she pulled out their entrails. And wasn't that lovely? They even tasted so delicious. Except of course the kid; the kid got away and was saved. Then another couple (the ludicrous notion savages like that could do anything, no finesse whatsoever) rescued her prey. That was no good and now she had become angrier than before. The couple who took away her last meal and now they would pay for it.

Which was why she was delighted. She was gleefully pleased when she saw little Evans and the woman from that couple who obstructed her meal at a grocery store. Of all places! She made her way to capture them and my – didn't they give her a merry chase.

 **-** _ **corrigenda**_ **–**

"MARK!"

Snap. The evil creature in front of him cackled as she smacked the youngest boy in the face. They had been taken. It had to be game over. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He felt pain on his shoulder and an aching bump on his head.

"Hush now." A soft voice said seductively.

He groaned as he felt someone's hand on his chest. He knew that was not a good idea. The licking tongue upon his cheek did not help him whatsoever regain any form of calm.

* * *

 **PRESENT**

 **Somewhere over Chicago, IL**

"Kid?"

He jolted awake at the man's voice beside him. Blinking rapidly, Harry stared at his seat partner through bleary eyes.

"We're landing."

Harry nodded, sniffing as he blinked looking around him. He would have to call Dean to let him know he landed. The nightmarish memory he woke from still clung to his mind. Nodding to the literary agent, he quietly waited until the plane landed gently on the asphalt of the airport.

* * *

 **BACKFLASH**

 **Leeds, UK**

"Oh, you are special." The creature whispered licking his face. It quickly ripped through his shirt and clucked when it saw the dark tattoo on his chest. "Now why would you have that on your chest?"

Fighting back a howl of pain, The Morrigan used a sharpened finger nail to make a shallow slash through his skin. The backlash of magic that came with the break in his skin burned. He cried as if something deep within him was being tortured more than any physical pain could.

"Yes my dear chosen one, scream for me."

* * *

 **PRESENT**

 **O'Hare International Airport**

 **Chicago, IL**

"Well, I wish you luck." The literary agent just didn't stop talking!

"Thanks." Harry muttered as he took a breath. He rushed off the plane and followed the maze of hallways. He quickly stepped through the mirage of corridors He fought back the images in his mind as he attempted to look forward to meeting his brother. He hadn't had much luggage to begin with apart from the worn out messenger bag.

Quickly, Harry moved to where he saw a telephone booth. Flicking open the main pouch of his bag, he rummaged about until he got the leather journal from its place. His fingers finally picked up the post-it note with his brother's familiar phone number – the main one. Rummaging some more, he found the money bag he used to put some American dollars he had exchanged before boarding the plane. He took out the quarters he needed and inserted them into the appropriate slot.

Jabbing his fingers across the buttons of the phone, he waited as the phone rang in his ear. He exhaled in relief when the other line picked up.

"Hello, Dean?" He asked into the receiver.

"Harry! Hey, you finally got in. I'll be out front in about ten."

"Right, thanks Dean." Harry said. "I'll be by – er, the International Gate entrances."

"Good, you'll know where I am when you see her. See you in a bit." His brother hung up shortly after that. With a huff of breath, Harry walked towards the main entry of the airport in order to wait.

* * *

 **BACKFLASH**

 **Leeds, UK**

"STOP HURTING THEM!" Harry screamed finally through raw vocal cords. He watched through blurry vision as the creature paused her gentle ministrations. Mark was crying. Sarah was opened like a flower from the chest and Nathan. His intestines were wrapped about his neck like a gruesome cord of rope. "Look, leave him alone. Leave him alone!"

The blood dripped down his chest where the tattoo had been. The creature didn't stop. Mark still cried some more. It was up to him. He had to stop this all somehow.

* * *

 **PRESENT**

 **O'Hare International Airport**

 **Chicago, IL**

The dark rumbling noise of the Chevy Impala rolling to a stop in front of the International Gates was a sight to see. Harry raised his eyebrows, shaken slightly from a past that kept playing in the back of his mind. This was it, moment of truth.

He walked up to the Impala in trepidation. He had given everything up in England for this moment.

* * *

 **BACKFLASH**

 **Leeds, UK**

The power of a wizard in trouble backfiring is an intense thing. Up against a pagan goddess into war and torture, it shouldn't have done the damage it did. However, this was no normal wizard.

Harry James Potter, defeater of the Dark Lord formerly known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, had been bruised, stabbed and wounded to the degree that he should really not have been conscious. In fact by the Morrigan's calculations he should have died. However, by slashing the tattoo on his chest she had released a defense mechanism in the magic he had intertwined with the ink. The entire tattoo itself had been an experiment. One meant to protect the bearer combining magic and just enough soul energy. For once the lines of the tattoo had been slashed through the tattoo; the defensive part of the enchantments imbedded into the skin of the wizard lashed out.

Harry had managed to tap into the magical equivalent of an arc reactor.

The blast blew the Morrigan back creating a strange force field between Harry and Mark. The pagan goddess was flipped backwards in a shower of light. The goddess was knocked back unconscious (a strange circumstance) giving the wizard all the time he needed. Harry choked as he was dropped like a sack to the ground. Mark screamed in agony as he too fell to the ground.

With a quiet whisper he called for the house elf.

* * *

 **PRESENT**

 **O'Hare International Airport**

 **Chicago, IL**

"Harry!" The stocky, confident man who greeted him was not what he expected. "And look at you, not wearing tweed."

The first impression Harry had of his older brother was giant. The man was tall. He noticed that Dean had boyish good looks and shortly trimmed light brown hair. The green of his eyes were lighter than his but was similar in a strange way even if they had different mothers. He wore a leather jacket over a grey t-shirt and black button-up shirt dress shirt that was left open. He stood behind the open door of the Impala.

How did brothers who had only conversed to each other via letters, phone calls and other means of communication greet one another? How did brothers get not too comfortable with the whole sharing and caring or hugs of affection?

"Ha." Harry snapped. The pair stared at each other awkwardly. With a raised brow the younger of the two looked at the Impala.

"Right, get in. It's goin' to be a long drive down to Texas – ZZ Top is performing." Dean grinned. Harry shrugged his way into the passenger side of the Impala. The teen quickly moved into the seat beside his brother. The leather interior made him appreciate the older vehicle. "Oh rules of the road, (here Harry looked at his older brother) driver chooses the tunes."

With a rev of his engine and a thrum of the bass: Harry watched as his brother turned up the music.

 _ROCK AND ROLL!_

* * *

 **FLASHBACK**

 **Leeds, UK**

Dobby's familiar face showed up over the pained teen. "Get Mark somewhere safe." Harry whispered. "Then come back for me when it's safe." The little creature nodded snapping to fulfill the injured wizard's request.

Despite being weakened Harry fought through the blood that poured down his various wounds. The Morrigan was still incapacitated. Weakened though he was, the teenaged wizard quickly battled through the muck and debris about him. Half crawling, half stumbling towards where Nathan's body hung, he sought out the one thing that could possibly work against a pagan goddess hell bent on killing him.

He saw what he needed to obtain.

"YOU," Power surged through the air. "You little rodent!"

Harry coughed as he was flung back against the wall. He let out an agonized groan as his back hit against the crumbling walls of the old farm house the pagan goddess had taken them to. With his head being dizzy, his body sore and parts he felt as if he'd broken something. He flinched as the Morrigan crawled her way towards him. The creature that held so much power had blood dripping down its mouth. Its skin was mottled and grey. A clawed hand anchored about his throat.

"Nice little trick that was!" The Morrigan hissed.

Harry was struggling with his breath and mobility. As she lifted him by the throat, choking on air – there was one thing he knew he had to do. He had to relax. So he forced himself not to fight against her grip even as spots crowded his vision. The creature seemed satisfied enough when his eyes rolled backwards and he stopped his breath. The creature dumped him callously on the ground.

"I LOST MY MEAL!" It shrieked with a roar, turning towards the dead bodies. It didn't notice until it was too late when a sharp stabbing pain drove itself into the back of its calf. Looking down and twisting it groaned. Looking down at a triumphant Harry whose face was bruised, eyes puffed up by being punched and flung everywhere – the Morrigan realized too late.

A bloodied bull's horn was jammed deep into her leg muscle. The effect was immediate. A bubbling pain went through the creature's body before…

 _ **SPLAT**_.

The gore was viscous and disgusting. Harry groaned in the silence looking at the bodies of his guardians. He nearly choked on his vomit. Closing his eyes, he barely noticed when Dobby returned and pulled him out of that ruined place.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** My shortest chapter and hopefully this is a good way to introduce Harry and Dean. Thanks for the reviews, follows and faves. I do love worded encouragement (hint, hint) because it keeps me on track. No promises but there will be more blood in the next chapter and we'll see how Harry and Dean will interact.


	9. On the Other Side

**PRESENT**

 **Highway to South Dakota**

Dean had three steps to this plan. One, he'd pick up Harry from the airport. Two, bring him to Bobby's for a crash course in hunting. The last step was to take him on a road trip across the great U-S-of-A. He had to hand it to the kid, he was adaptable.

When Dean pulled over into a secluded parking lot near a fast food joint only to spray the teen with holy water, Harry didn't even twitch. He did hiss when Dean nicked the kid with the silver penknife. Harry didn't flinch when he was also handed the iron end of the nunchakus he always had on him.

"Can't be too careful," He had said. Harry shrugged at that and muttered something about having a professor into 'constant vigilance'. The older of the two just lifted his eyebrows. Shortly after that he told Harry since he was good, to stay in the car while Dean got them something to eat for the rest of the trip.

That had been an hour ago. Since then, they spoke briefly about food, driving on the wrong side of the highway and music before drifting into companionable silence. South Dakota was not too far a drive but because Harry had arrived shortly after eight in the evening, Dean would drive them as far as they could before crashing somewhere.

As far as first impressions went the kid wasn't half bad. Harry – in his jeans, striped navy t-shirt and worn looking bomber jacket reminded his older brother eerily of another teenager at that age. The worn leather messenger bag was the only difference. That and Harry was possibly shorter than either him or Sam at that age. He had a similarly lean grace possibly from his mother's side but the same sturdy determined jaw as an older man Dean had known his whole life. The messy black hair too. The verdant eyes hidden behind the owlish glasses were probably a touch shade darker than the hazel green Sam and he shared. It was eerie how genetics worked. Something Dean didn't want to think too much about.

Instead he focused on the road before him.

Hands about the wheel, he started tapping his fingers to the familiar beat of a tune all about driving. Dean quickly turned up the volume with Harry's curios gaze his way.

" _On a dark desert highway_!" he sang as the song played. " _Cool wind in my hair_." The kid beside him grinned watching the older male sing.

Surprisingly, a second voice joined him. " _There she stood in the doorway, I heard the mission bell and I was thinking to myself. This could be heaven or this could be hell._ "

"Not bad." Dean smirked before the pair busted aloud together. His deepening baritone mixed in with his younger brother's cracking tenor. " _Welcome to the Hotel California_!"

" _Such a lovely place_ ," Dean began with Harry crowing in repeat. This was hella fun and reminded the older of the duo of singing with Sammy. Although that particular brother always needed a good nudge of encouragement. They wound down after the final chorus. Their faces bright, their grins wide, for a moment they felt like everything was going right in the world. Dean dialled down the volume a little bit as the radio went to an irritating commercial.

"That was brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, having never done that before. "I first heard that song when I was nine and I was trying to prank one of these kids' older brothers over the summer hols. The cock up had been wanking with both of another kids' older sisters."

Dean chuckled, "What did you do?"

"I put itching powder in his entire collection of pants." Harry grinned. Dean blinked – pants? He must have said it aloud because the teen nodded. "Er, right American. Um, pants they were his uh, boxers, drawers – underwear."

"Oh." He was impressed. "Well, that would be a real cock block for sure."

"He thought he had crabs for weeks." Harry guffawed. "He didn't screw with anyone for a while since I also got the other boy to keep putting the itching powder there ever so often."

Dean shook his head. "That's cruel man."

The teen shrugged. "I was nine; I have an excuse for not knowing better."

The pair chuckled over that before once again easing into a relatively companionable silence. Dean had never thought he'd meet someone like Harry let alone have the kid be his brother. It was strange how well they got along together. Even when they first started with the pen-paling and the phone calls.

However, after a while he started recognizing the familiarity in the kid's easy smile and devil-may-care attitude. He also noticed the dark shadows beneath the teen's eyes as well as the way those similar greens had this guarded look in them. They were expressions he saw that filtered throughout his life. He'd seen the look on his face, his dad's and even Sammy's at one point or another.

"You know, you never did tell me exactly what happened recently or go into detail about how you lost your magic." Dean murmured. "Sorry by the way about the Harrisons."

Harry sucked in a breath. Yeah kid was worried about something and was still feeling the effects of guilt or some other shit for what he wasn't really responsible for.

"I thought I told you everything." The teenager said.

"Yeah that the Harrisons died because of the Morrigan and you killed the thing. Bobby looked it up. How the hell did you gank a pagan goddess by the way?" Dean asked.

Beat.

"Bull's horn with an iron spoke running straight through the middle, carved with Celtic runes that basically mean 'bugger off' and coated in the blood of those she last killed." The teen muttered, good humour diminished. "I pushed it straight through her calf when her back as turned."

Beat.

Another beat.

What felt like ten minutes of silence later was actually ten seconds as Dean processed what Harry just told him. Finally, he breathed. "Okay. Good."

"Yeah, I guess." Harry muttered as he leaned back rebelliously against the back of his seat. His eyes drifting to the passing landscape as dark thoughts crowded his mind. He flew different memories from the time he had gone to help his friends at Hogwarts, to the year he spent the Harrisons. He thought to that moment in an old, rotting cellar in Leeds. It was worse than witnessing Cedric die and that burning rage made its appearance.

"Look," Dean broke the uneasy tension in the air. "I know you probably don't want to talk about any of it. There are things in my past I don't want to share either. I just need to know if I need to look out for anything. Just because you lost your magic and had a shit ton of garbage thrown at you doesn't mean more won't be comin'. Our family's been kinda cursed with crap luck. If the Bastard is still out there, magic or no, he's still comin' for you and yours. Evil just doesn't quit being evil just because you're done with it."

The quiet in the Impala was stifling. As suddenly as it came, the static in the air released as the teen beside him let out a shaky breath.

 **\- 09. On the Other Side –**

 **THEN**

Being tortured by a pagan goddess was up there amongst stupid things he would never do again. Harry heard a quiet whisper of his name before feeling tiny hands on his body. There was a whistling sound and he was landed upon a soft bed. He groaned, crying out when he felt someone touch his shivering, naked arms.

Words were whispered above his head. Then he felt light. Bright and soft, warm and gentle like an embrace. For a few hours didn't know any more.

 **-** _ **corrigenda**_ **–**

He was known as Loki. That was his moniker amongst the mortals and pagan gods or goddesses he surrounded himself with. Really, it was a good cover being a Trickster. He hadn't handled the family fighting and had set about getting a vessel where he carved out his a place for himself in the world his father had made. It had been ages since dad used him as messenger. He out of his brothers had a great deal more contact with humanity. He'd seen their merit.

Still, it wasn't every day that a being this tiny sought him out.

"Now why would a golem like you seek me out?"

The thing wrung its tiny hands as it looked solemnly at the human it had brought to his feet. "Dobby's beggin' your pardon Great One. Dobby was told to bring them to safety. The Great Harry Potter is in terrible danger."

Loki blinked; the wheels in his brain spinning. "Tell me Dobby, since when is a Trickster safe?"

"The Great Harry Potter gave me this when spoke about safety. This be where is safe, beggin' your pardon Great One."

The strange piece of parchment looked familiar to him. It was weathered and worn. Strange magic infused in and out. The only thing gracing it was the strange scrawling names of Moony, Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail. At the center was a mark that he hadn't seen in a very long time. It was a sigil that looked like a backwards N with a line crossing the middle and a circular shape that veered to the right.

In spinning, magical ink the words: _Loki bar flærða tíma_.

A chuckle escaped him. Indeed he'd been fortunate in his deceit to heaven and those that wrote about him in that 13th century equivalent to the Lord of the Rings. It still didn't explain much but as he figured it out.

"So, the kid is a worshipper?"

The tiny thing shrugged. "Dobby does not know. Dobby be back soon, Dobby must fetch The Great Harry Potter from great evil."

There was a quiet pop and the golem left. Loki stared at the unconscious child before him with a solemn frown. He didn't heal as a rule. It meant giving his position away to heaven. Something he loathed to do – what with hiding from everyone and all – but as a pagan god, he had some loopholes he could circumvent without getting too much notice.

It was a few seconds later when the creature popped back in front of him. Seeing 'The Great Harry Potter' Loki, also once known as Gabriel started. This was a child of destiny. Atropos would kill him; figuratively of course if he did anything untoward.

"Well this is a great deal of crap cakes." He muttered.

"Indeed it is." A soft, proper voice intoned. The little golem didn't notice the red haired woman with green eyes with legs for miles. Loki stared at her and would've whistled at some point if he wasn't facing another angel. The golem hesitantly requested that the Trickster do something about the young boys while looking worriedly. It then said it had to leave – this Dobby creature – because of business at some Hogwash place. The golem said it would return for The Great Harry Potter and the other child. It left again leaving the Trickster with two very hurt humans at his feet.

"Hello Great One," The woman greeted. "Shall I keep your identity secret?"

"Would be awesome," Loki retorted. "You're not a Reaper though are you?"

The Redhead smiled sadly. "Bargains can be made. Death is just as strangely mysterious as the Father after all."

"He's supposed to be locked up along with his brothers so why don't I believe you?" Loki asked.

"You know how heaven works, you know how hell works but do you know anything about the Veil?" the woman asked. The being pursed his lips and felt a furrow of his eyebrows.

"Look, whatever it is you're playing at isn't right and goes against the rules set down by my father. Why am I being plagued to keep complete strangers safe? That is beyond any Trickster's capabilities."

There was a silence and the redhead cocked her head to the side. "It's not their time."

Loki rolled his eyes. "They're injured, not dead. They can go to a hospital. I am retired from the whole tricks and whistles of holiness or fate. No offense to my brothers."

"They are close." she said quietly. "I know the Reaper who is supposed to collect their souls. This is the reason I am here (she looked down sadly at the teenager with dark, black hair). He is worth protecting, don't you think?"

"I'm a Trickster – "

"You will heal them. This is the reason I am here, I left my place in heaven briefly to see this through." The redhead requested quietly. "It's only through the Veil I'm here at all."

"Reapers are supposed to be neutral." While it came out serious, Loki's response just caused the redhead before him to smirk.

"I am told this is a onetime deal and sometimes Reapers go mercenary," she whispered looking softly at the teenager. "Please, help them."

Against his better judgment the Trickster huffed. He lowered himself down to the teenager first. The younger boy was not as severely injured although it wouldn't take much for The Reaper to take the boy's soul. Reaching deep, he cast a small soft power upon the teen. He hissed in near pain when something else came to meet him. It felt like an angel's grace but before he could question it, he was taken to a plane he hadn't been to for ages.

 **-** _ **corrigenda**_ **–**

"King's Cross?" Harry whispered worriedly and confused about him. A few steps away from him were a darkened bench as if something had been stuck to it and couldn't get out. All that remained was a tar-like substance that remained stuck to the bench. Around him he was on a platform and it was so bright.

"Is that where we are?" a voice asked. Looking over he saw a man with floppy light brown – almost golden hair and tawny hazel eyes.

"Who are you?"

"Think about it," was the snarky reply. "Interesting place this, it sort of hurts. Are you an angel?"

Harry laughed drily at that. "No. I'm a wizard. If you're not Death because that's the only logical reason for me to be here then what are you?"

Beat.

"Your friend gave me a funny piece of paper with a sigil. Do you remember it?" The man asked while including an exasperated look upon his comely face.

It clicked with Harry then that the parchment worked. Sort of – he was surprised. "You're Loki?"

"Don't be so shocked. Look, you know I'm a Trickster god right? I don't do healings or safety." The being before him stated.

Harry blinked before walking up to the man at a quick pace. "I know that, I can't believe it worked. Look, Loki, sir (an afterthought) I hope I can appeal to your more benevolent tendencies?"

The being snorted followed with a roll of his eyes. "It's your party. Damn, I can't even get chocolate in this plane. Just make it quick – someone might come looking for me, us."

"Right," Harry took a deep inhale. "I'd like to bargain you my magic."

There was a frown.

"I need to protect my family and friends. See, there's this evil bastard after me and mine. I know you don't guard per se but you are known more for your strange sort of justice. I – well this is sort of like my last minute insurance policy."

"Kid I'm no insurance broker. I'm a pagan god with powerful magic. You are being an absolute twat if you're bargaining this – _magic_ – for protection. I don't do deals. You can go dark if you wanted something like that." Loki hissed. "The best I can do is to heal you and your little friend to a more manageable level then you can get your little golem to take you to a hospital. The payment would be to leave me alone and to burn that stupid parchment. Technically if I even do this I'm circumventing the whole law of balance. There's a Reaper waiting for you outside this space so – I mean you could always die."

Harry looked at the Trickster with a tangible desperation in those verdant eyes. "Please Loki, my magic to protect those linked to this."

He opened his shirt to reveal a brightly glowing red tattoo that was cracked and broken in places with black, poisonous veins through it. "Two of them are already gone but the rest. Please, in the name of causing mayhem. There is a bastard out there that would hurt them and it would be absolutely poetic if he was thwarted from harming any of them. You do this deal with me – use my magic to protect them somehow and it will be the most entertainment you'll have for years."

The earnestness almost broke him. Then he saw two names shining brightly on the kid's spiritual skin. Well by all things Father. "Who are you kid?"

"Harry James Potter."

Loki arched an eyebrow and a tiny, snarky part of him wanted to smile a little. The names of his brothers' vessels would be quite fun to watch. However, if he got involved in any way – it would mean trouble. Still, if he wasn't the one _actively_ 'protecting' them then no one could trace it back to him. After all this kid said he was giving up magic. Loki wouldn't have to even lift a finger. Then again this power the kid had felt more like some strange form of grace. It stung quite a bit though. He wasn't certain what would happen if he messed around with it. Then again, he was getting bored doing the whole 'just desserts for douchebags' thing.

"Fine," Loki said. "Just for kicks I'll do this for you. You can thank The Reaper who convinced me to help you and your friend out. Now what is it you wanted me to do?"

While Harry momentarily looked curious at the mention of a reaper, he reminded himself they were on a time limit. If Loki had people looking out for him as the being mentioned then it was essential to get through this insane mission he had. "Take my magic, all of it and make it into an encompassing shield over each and every one living that is still tattooed on my chest. Each person should have a pendant of some sort that is supposed to help them. Use the magic infuse it to the runes etched on the pendants. The magic will do the rest." Harry explained.

"What about you?" Loki asked.

"Separating my magic from me could destroy me but it will be worth the pain."

The being before him took a moment to shake his head. The kid was insane. Verifiable but Loki had to admit that this was the most entertainment he'd had for eons.

"Kid I'm no creator so this is going to hurt like hell."

 **-** _ **corrigenda**_ **–**

Luna hadn't been able to sleep. Her housemates were nice enough in their own way. She had escaped to the only place she felt some form of comfort while within her own house. The balcony beside the common room was wide and open. She sat on the ledge of the stone railing. It was the perfect perch. Around her neck she felt the pendant given to her by her good friend. The heat from the item remained comfortable temperature against her skin but had been a constant thing she noticed the moment she woke up from one of her many nightmares.

While most thought her quite loony. She wasn't really.

Ever since her mother died in an experiment gone wrong – she had always been able to see the unseeable. She understood things more differently from those around her. The things that mattered now included the friendships she made. She wondered in the sane part of her mind what her friend gotten into this time.

 **-** _ **corrigenda**_ **–**

Harry woke up to an intense numbness in his chest that he felt as if his heart had been ripped through his chest. The image of Sarah flashed through his memory. He opened his mouth but found that he couldn't feel that too. It was as if he'd lost a part of his senses.

"D-Dobby?" he whispered.

"Master Harry Potter sir!" the House Elf whimpered. "The Great One he took your magic!"

The insurance worked. While unconscious he must have made a deal with Loki and it had worked. He felt so empty without it. Blinking back tears, he looked to the tiny creature before him. "M-mark?"

Dobby gestured to the prone figure of the ten-year-old beside him. Nodding despite being tired, he didn't notice much of their surroundings. With a quiet whispered word, he requested they be taken to the nearest muggle hospital. He fell into a dreamless sleep afterwards.

Harry woke up briefly only to see he was surrounded by wires and beeping machines. They must be in a muggle hospital then. Dobby squeaked before snapping his fingers causing the machine beside Harry to beep loudly. He struggled to retain consciousness. Still, Morpheus' hold was deep and the teen needed time to recover. The teen stopped fighting and welcomed the much needed rest.

 **-** _ **corrigenda**_ **–**

 **Voicemail from Harry Potter to Dean Winchester's Main Voicemail – June 09, 2004**

"Dean it's me, look, can you give me a call? I'm in trouble, I need help. Please."

 **Voicemail from Harry Potter to Dean Winchester's Other Voicemail** – **June 10, 2004**

"Dean it's Harry, please call me, it's important.

 **Voicemail from Harry Potter to Dean Winchester's Other, Other Voicemail – June 11, 2004**

"Dean, what are you hunting that you can't call me back?"

 **-** _ **corrigenda**_ **–**

He didn't know how he could have survived with Dobby's wringing hands or eagerness to help. Harry was technically a Squib now. He was a lesser being in the realm of magic.

He had struggled to remain conscious those first few days. By the time he regained some semblance of balance (a difficult task since he was still adjusting to not having magic) he tried every number he could for backup.

He pretended he was of legal age so he could pass of being Mark's older brother and that they had been ironically in a car crash. He gave fake names. He directed Dobby to subtly salt, burn and to bury Sarah and Nathan's bodies to the graveyard out in Godric's Hollow. All the while he had tried every number he knew that could possibly reach Dean. He needed backup.

Mark was said to be in a stable condition with short bouts of awareness. Harry did his best to comfort the younger boy who had basically lost everything all over again. He needed a plan, he needed help and quick. While he still didn't have magic, it didn't mean he couldn't use magical things. His messenger bag had been untouched despite the dark ministrations of the Morrigan. It had been cut at the strap but was easily repaired by Dobby.

Flipping through his journal, his mother's – the best plan of action he could take was to enact his right as the Heir of the Potter Estate. He wrote a letter to his account manager – Bloodclaw who oversaw the steps Harry took. He'd only met the goblin once back when he had first made the pendants and asked the goblins to help him create the tattoo.

When he finally got a hold of Dean after nearly a week of trying; the brothers came up with Harry's next plan of action. He'd come over stateside. The teen didn't want his older brother to know what he had done to protect him. After all he also didn't know himself what he had requested from Loki. His memory was a haze as if he had been in a wild nightmare.

Still, Harry was thankful and kept saying thank you to the Trickster in his head. It had been against his better judgment engaging with another pagan god. Usually they wanted blood in the worship. However, out of all the deities out there – Loki had been one that apparently his father worshipped. His mother's journal had notes and even quick notes in the margins in apparently his father's handwriting correcting his mom's assumptions. Whatever he had done in that plane meant he lost his magic and still remained alive. A gift he wasn't going to question. He was just thankful to be alive, yet again. After all, he'd only give up living if everyone he ever loved died. Harry had winced at that thought as he compartmentalized his focus.

All this while he was trying to keep Mark safe as it had been his topmost priority. Harry got a fortunate break. As if by magic, an unassuming family came into their lives.

The Novaks were on vacation. Mark who was recovered enough had befriended Claire, a spritely seven-year-old was seen around. She had gotten bored and to worm her way around the hospital while her father worried over their sickly parent. The way Harry had heard it, the family was visiting some sites from Jimmy's (the father) European side of the family. It was unfortunate but Amelia (the mum) had come down with pneumonia while on their trip. They were now on their third day in the hospital.

Harry knew it had been underhanded. He also felt a dark guilt claw his chest. However, it was the best plan he had.

He pulled some strings. With Bloodclaw's help; Gringotts sent someone discreet to alter not only the hospital records and memories of those who interacted with the Novak family. Mark Evans became the recently adopted son of Jimmy and Amelia Novak; older brother to Claire. He had gotten involved in a bad car accident which was why he was currently in the hospital. His parents had been friends of the Novaks; in fact Jimmy was best friends with Nathan Harrison, Mark's step-father. The false memories were good; the story believable and with a prayer Harry hoped it would be enough to keep Mark and his newly adopted family safe.

Of course that wouldn't be enough. Guiltily satisfied, the sixteen year old who had taken on tasks better suited to this far older than he – Harry focused on his other contingency plans. He knew he couldn't remain in the UK. Before the Novaks left for home, Harry obtained their personal information. He had a section now reserved just for them. He would be keeping tabs on the family as much as he could. He told Bloodclaw in another letter to pay a good fifty percent more to the party who had done the work.

From what he could see Mark no longer remembered anything to do with Harry and hunting. The boy would remember certain things (as directed by Harry since there was only so much tricking a human mind). He would sincerely remember Sarah and Nathan as well as his original parents but those sorts of memories would be associated to the Harrisons. It was enough and the pendant was explained away as a token gifted to the boy by Nathan.

Shortly after getting a hold of Dean (FINALLY) through Bobby's number. He spoke with his brother and pleaded for asylum abroad. He didn't have major plans other than hide from the Bastard, protect those he loved the best he can and hopefully stay out of trouble enough not to go back into war. He couldn't really help without his magic in any wars of course. So the task befell his friends and family with the power to do so. Was he running? He was sixteen, he was doing what he thought was the right thing to do.

He didn't know the consequences of his actions. He still didn't know how a demon got through Hogwarts' wards or the wards at Privet Drive. He didn't want to think about it right now if he could be honest.

He just needed to figure shit out but he couldn't do it in the UK. There were too many memories and whatever happened with Loki had caused his mind to go into disarray. It was as if he had a gaping hole he kept trying to fill but couldn't because what had once been so comforting and right was gone. It was as if he had gone from technicolour to sepia.

Some truths kept Harry Grounded though.

The bastard was still out there along with his evil cohorts. There was still research to be done regarding the _horcruxes_. Harry hoped his plans through that grim faced, seemingly loyal goblin kept his end of the bargain. Considering the teen had given the creature two-thirds of the Potter fortune; the creature would do well to hold up what he could. Even though the teen didn't have magic as he had had before. There were other things the kid could do to harm the goblins. If they were anything like what Harry had researched – the ones in the magical world were related to the fairy realm. It wouldn't take much for bag of grains to be placed in front of them and the magic forcing the creatures to count would put them into a vulnerable position indeed.

Harry had no intention of telling Dean all of this. The entire portion about losing his magic was a complete unknown since he didn't know exactly what sort of deal he made with the Trickster. That Dean would have to know. After all, he was completely blank on that count. All Harry knew was that he had taken a risk as he was at Death's doorstep and whatever happened had worked. Some things probably would still slip out if he hung out with his older brother enough. The teen was resolved to deal with whatever came up as they came up, one at a time.

For now he needed to rest.

* * *

 **PRESENT**

 **West Salem, WI**

They pulled up to the Wally World parking lot, the Impala purring to a stop. They had spent the remainder of the drive since Harry had spoken in detail what he had gone through the past year in contemplative quiet. Dean felt the tension coming off the teen and the world weariness he felt no kid should feel. Kids should stay kids until the world got to them. Winchesters weren't meant for apple pie unless it was poisoned.

"I'm going to fill her up, get some drinks and we can just listen to some tunes the rest of the way to Bobby's if you want." Dean offered solemnly.

He didn't do comfort. He sucked at that shit. The kid needed it though and he wasn't sure exactly what to do. Sam had been easy in times of pain. They had a foundation of years spent in each other's presence knowing each other's ticks. When his other brother needed encouragement; all he had had to do was listen, argue and let Sammy reason things out. From there they would discuss it briefly, get angry. They did a song and dance before settling on a plan to deal with the problem.

Harry was too much like Dean. He could lock down things he felt no one needed to know, didn't often show vulnerability and had always kept fighting even when he was down. He was also unlike his older brother since he was candid enough when he trusted people. His brother had had an entire family look after him. The words of an old grouch came to mind, something said in passing but still stuck as a reminder. Family didn't always end in blood.

Yet here Harry was, away from his family hoping it would be enough to keep them safe.

Dean didn't know that kind of strength. Certainly he had had his own trials. He'd killed things. Yet, if something like what the kid experienced happened to him based on the explanation Harry had given him. In his mind, he'd probably do something the same. Dean thought to the pendant Harry had given him. Whatever the teen had done, the magic was now in the piece of jewellery he had roped about his wrist, hidden by leather and metal so that it couldn't escape. The pendant was on him at all times. Even in the shower. Would he have done what Harry had done?

About to ask if the kid wanted to come with, Dean saw the young brunet resting his head against the door of the passenger side. He'd get a crick in his neck if he kept at that positon. Looking at him, he looked so young and so tired. As if he would never smile again. Determinedly the oldest of the Winchester brothers made a vow. He'd see to it that Harry had some sort of teenage-hood. Kid looked like he needed it.

Mind made up, he locked up the Impala with the driver window rolled down slightly to let some air in. Striding to the familiar blue of the shopping centre in front of him; Dean felt the best place to start was get some things together so the kid could at least get caught up on pop culture. Old Westerns were always a good place to start.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Hope this chapter was a good one. I had written a different version of this chapter but it wasn't jiving well and I was half forcing it too. I know I had promised blood; sometimes though – it's better to just listen to the characters. This was the result. Also shout out to **orionastro** , **Vengeance-Angel2010** , **a person d** and **lunaz** for reviewing and sticking with this fic. To those who favorited and followed this fic recently – many thanks! Y'all know what to do if you have any particular reaction or questions to this chapter.


	10. Ab Initio - Fin

**Ab Initio**

 _ **Fin**_

 _The beginning is always most difficult to write. How much to give away – is it too much of a rambling prologue – is there enough action to keep a reader interested. Who, what, when, where, why and how? Those types of questions will always pop up and admittedly this particular tale has plenty of questions and not a whole lot of answers._

 _After all who is they that the Harrisons kept referring to? I mean, Harry fought off (well – sort of) a witchy pagan goddess with little more than iron poker wrapped up in a bull's horn covered in blood. Not really a weapon of mass destruction and seriously – only_ _ **one**_ _of the_ _ **they**_ _. So who are_ _ **they**_ _? Yet a three-fold pagan goddess is more than just the one sucking off entrails. She's a three-fold goddess after all._

 _Also, what's going on at Hogwarts? Or with Sirius and Remus – that last one is an interesting case but he's fairly introverted. Then again, there are plenty of differences between the werewolves the Winchesters deal with and their magical counterparts. The whole corruption, power and all that which comes with free will or what have you. Mind, there are plenty of questions on how demons could take over Ministry officials pretending to be working class professors despite being overrun by demonic forces – sort of like that one guy who accepted the Devil – or wait is that even in this timeline? I completely digressed at this point._

 _Mainly because, I'm not sure why I am even writing this here – I mean Carver Edlund is my name in print. Of course, the stories I have for Sam and Dean never had a Harry in it – excluding that ghost buster guy who doesn't even know about the supernatural at this point. In fact he's somewhere still going through puberty – aka – acknowledging women exist and he likes them. That isn't to say that this Harry, the one who is the second youngest son of one John Winchester has any clue around the opposite sex._

 _He's still too busy angstying (angst isn't a verb but for the sake of these notes I'm writing it is) over what happened before coming to America. Oh and the year he spent with the Harrisons after the whole bloody business of his relatives getting killed (except Dudley who could possibly make an appearance in the future). Not to mention his deal with the goblins. Wait – did I mention that yet? Hm. I think – right I'll just copy and paste down that section of the past here._

* * *

 **THEN**

 **Non-descript Alleyway**

 **Charring Cross**

 **London, UK**

"You will call me." Nathan stated – the threat in the air. The teen nodded solemnly. He had decided to wear a dark hooded cloak, slacks and covered the lower half of his face with a scarf that would hide most of his facial features excepting his eyes. Those were now behind a pair of blocky glasses. His scar was hidden by the growing fringe of curling hair that kept growing. Mark kept pointing out how annoying it looked and badgered the older boy to cut it off.

No more words were exchanged between them.

Nathan would park and keep close to the café nearest the Leaky Cauldron entrance. Harry quickly exited the vehicle his guardian drove. Dashing through the drizzling rain, the teen managed to get indoors of the classic old pub. It was cool for mid-October. Yet Harry didn't have much time to think. He had plans. Plans he needed to put to action even as he dodged skillfully through the magical crowd of Diagon Alley.

He knew people were seeking him. He knew he couldn't afford to be found. This journey itself was painfully risky.

Up the gleaming steps and into the bank he went. Harry's eyes darted about until he saw a familiar face. Without ado, he stood in line to see the goblin he'd met since his First Year. The tiny thing looked up when he finally came to the line. Leaning forward with the key that never left his neck on a magically extending chain, Harry whispered: "Griphook, I am here to meet with Bloodclaw."

Beady eyes looked once before the figure hopped off the bench. There were no further words as the till was closed. Harry had had a formal meeting with his account manager. He had set it up once he was in a safe place to do so after the events of Privet Drive some eleven weeks prior. From the teen's basic understanding of goblin culture – names were important as was well as poker-faced directness.

There was a groan as an older wizard wheezed behind him. "Bloody goblins, service is going downhill nowadays – to a bloody hag."

Harry scoffed when the older wizard shuffled into a longer line at the next till over. It would be funny yet cruel if the man had to wait in that one but the goblin left his place just before the older grump got served. It didn't take long for Griphook to beckon him to follow. Harry mentally thanked whatever being was listening for the book on simplified Goblin customs he had procured back in Third Year. That had been about the time after he blew up his aunt like Violet Beauregarde from that one book.

They walked quickly (for goblins were deceptively fast) through the main chamber of business to the customer meeting hall. He ignored some of the odd looks he received. While not rare, wizards in general didn't meet with their account holders at Gringotts. In fact the elite often had the goblins see them. Harry was taking a rather large risk at that moment but needs must.

"Wait here please." Griphook stated eying Harry sit down in the waiting area. The space wasn't big, more like a 200 Sq. Foot Hall where one large ornate doors. There was a dark marble stone with the words highlighted in silver inlay GOBLINS ONLY and beneath that, TRESPASSERS EXECUTED.

A long low, iron bench was on the wall to the right. It had multiple clawed legs holding it up. The bench reminded Harry of a sharp set of teeth. He gingerly sat on the thing. He clutched the strap of his ever present messenger bag hidden beneath his cloak. Across from him were two large doors made of oak with ornate carvings depicting goblins battling wizards. He saw one particular image of a goblin looking gleeful as he chopped off the hand of a wizard who had stolen. So it seemed. He was looking so closely at the design that he started when Griphook appeared. The goblin had opened the very same door Harry had been studying so astutely.

"He will see you now for one hour."

Harry nodded swiftly. Goblins did not say thank you. They were very much a feral society that was civilized for the most part. However, the quick submissive bow the teen gave to Griphook acknowledged Harry's standing. Little known fact –most magicals did not apply was that in goblin culture, if you were to meet with one on their grounds – you would have to comply on their terms. If they withheld information from you – they would do so in order to show you who was in charge. Knowing this, Harry justified the awkward bow he gave to the teller.

Griphook was technically a foot soldier. Not worth much but was still valuable on the long haul. While he wasn't under Bloodclaw's regiment – the creature didn't show his inward surprise at the respect given him. Harry strode through the door the goblin had opened receiving an acknowledging nod too quick to be have occurred.

Once within the space, the door behind Harry closed. The customer service office – that was the closest thing to describe it after all – was a warm stone room about 400 Sq. Feet with a roaring fire place to one end and floating candles similar to the ones at Hogwarts about the large stone desk that overtook the room. Two iron high-back chairs padded with dark red velvet were on one side of the table. A large, throne like one where the goblin he came to see sat was on the other.

Three leather bound ledgers were already on the table. Each bore the Potter family crest in different colours. Taking a deep breath, Harry bowed deeply to the goblin before him as way of greeting. He wasn't sure if he was doing this right. This was the first time he had had to do something like this.

"State your business." Bloodclaw commanded.

"The most important is to obtain the services of a trusted and powerful Curse Breaker. The second is to review and make changes to the Potter Accounts." Harry replied swiftly. He didn't rise yet from the bow as he had read that, goblins on their territory held the cards.

The being in front of Harry was stoic at the respect shown him. Apart from Dumbledore – most wizards didn't know the rites of conduct. If Bloodclaw recalled from his great-grandnephew Filius – they had a ghost who had been instrumental to that one uprising back in the nineteenth century teaching history! Most of it about the bloody revolts from a wizarding only experience. Apparently, the Board of Governors didn't want to exorcise the old Binns because it meant more money. No wonder relations between Gringotts and the Ministry were stagnating.

"Rise and proceed the request."

* * *

 _A bit ominous and not my usual fare for writing I admit but it could be important later on. As for the other questions like – whatever happened to Sam?_

 _Oh Sam. He's always kept under the dark until the last moment when he's absolutely needed then he does an underhanded noble thing that ends up ruining basically everything. That is in future but since Harry's present – who knows maybe a bit of responsibility of a younger brother who has yet to receive any mail from because reasons. Honestly, I can't delve into that much yet. I have an idea what's going on but there are certain key players that have yet to make an appearance. I really should check in on that thing with the Kowalskis and their involvement with Hogwarts. Honestly, can't keep anyone related from the Scamanders away from imminent danger can I?_

 _Obviously, there's the whole business with Tom. Goodness gracious me – Tom's a bloody mess. I think that's where I'm going to leave at this point. Spoilers I think – even for myself and I'm the one writing these notes. I suppose this particular document is never going to see the light of day because well, they're just an author's ramblings. Proven to be difficult to decipher and I needed time to just get my head in order with all their voices. So many voices asking for resolution! I'm not completely all powerful as much as I'd like to think I am. I just like getting to know characters._

 _Loudest of them all are Hermione and Sirius! They're all clamouring in my mind and I have no idea why they're making an extremely large deal over the whole thing with those abominations called horcruxes and of course the Men of Letters._

 _Well, it's now 1:54 in the morning and I really need to reorganize my notes._

 _There's so much to write and funny to me that I don't have enough time to write it all down! Ha! If only these folks were all real. They'd be clamouring for me to change the story and what a story it is! Supernatural – it's a snappy title but I guess for the purpose of this story isn't quite right. I don't know I like it enough._

His fingers paused over the blank document. He reached over to drink his beer. He needed a break. However the story needed to be told. He didn't know how far he had to go to tell it just right. There were so many factors to consider. He had begun the story at the most boring place too! He sighed. This is why this tale wasn't published yet. He desperately wanted it to be read eventually. However, some of the important things to the timeline had yet to occur!

He did know that Sam would be heading to Scotland just before he met Jessica and encounter Selkies. He also knew that somewhere in the present future – a case originally worked by Dean and Sam in New York about a few years from now revolving Edgar Allan Poe would be looked over by Harry and someone else. That particular someone else had yet to make himself known. He was still oh two years younger than Harry? Not that would stop anyone with Winchester blood going half-cocked into a fight.

Chuck groaned. He needed a break. He needed a really long break and possibly with someone with less inhibitions than a cold computer screen. There had to be some sort of woman willing to take on a half-pint writer with terrible sentence structure. Not to mention in future sequences which he jotted down on unused pieces of tissue paper where certain characters went full monty.

He scoffed and decided to distract himself from his own angst. He decided he needed a playlist for this crap. One that was filled with either cheesy music or the type Dean enjoyed blasting in his already selectively deaf ears. With a will, Chuck scoured the internet and got a legal pad. In his horribly, ineligible writing he scribbled down words on the neon sheets between bright blue lines that clashed horribly before him.

 **Music Playlist**

 _Cherry Pie, Warrant_

 _Carry On Wayward Son, Kansas_

 _I Will Wait, Mumford & Sons _

_Magic, The Cars_

 _Only the Young, Journey_

 _Swear It Again, Westlife (giggling girls at mall scene)_

 _Street Figtin' Man, The Rolling Stones_

 _Baba O'Riley, The Who_

 _Don't Open Your Eyes, Kansas_

 _Somebody's Knockin', Terri Gibbs_

 _Wind of Change, Scorpions_

 _Who Are You, The Who_

 _Life on Mars, David Bowie_

 _As Bad As This, Styx_

 _Pinball Wizard, The Who_

 _Orion, Dustin Bentall & The Smokes _

_Slip Kid, The Who_

 _Rock and Roll, Led Zeppelin_

 _Hotel California, Eagles_

 _On the Other Side, Phillip LaRue (was listening to this one before The Stokes'; this one fit better)_

Satisfied with his "work" he saved his notes, reopened his word document for the tale. His eyes began blurring at the empty page before him. It would be later after he finished the task that some of the songs he listed down hadn't even gotten released yet. Ah well. He was a god after all.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Breaking the fourth wall with this one. That said some long overdue review responses!

To the few asking about Sam: "I'm not falling behind or running late...willing to...wait for it" (Wait For It, Hamilton the Musical).

Guest who is possibly **orionastro -** thank you, there are werewolves in the future considering one of a lupine nature in cahoots with a certain black dog and a klutz with metamorphical powers.

 **Vengeance-Angel2010** \- just full of surprises! Can you guess who the redhead is or is that too much of a spoiler?

 **Outofthisworldgal** \- Yeah, he was always going to give up his magic and whether he gets it back - only Chuck knows (theories are welcome gal). Still considering that last name for him - might play with that in future; thank you for the suggestion. John's an ass.

 **icyquest4** :D

 **a person d** \- Dean and Harry have always been similar in my mind. Also you're welcome about Luna! Glad you caught that! :)

 **Rosalind Fairchilde** \- Love your name. I hope you don't mind as I publicly ask permission to use it at some point? Additionally, thank you for your constructive criticism. I'm glad you were honest about what you thought especially about the magic bit. I know it's not exactly kosher in most HP crossover fics. Magic is such a huge part of his life. I hope you do try this fic again in the future so that it will be worth favoring.

 **lunaz** \- I know right; Dean and Harry are so alike it makes my cheeks hurt whenever I write their interactions. Their bromance is real.

Again many thanks to those of you who have read, reviewed, followed and favorited this story thus far. I really appreciate it. Thank you for your patience and while this was a short one - it breaks evenly to the next bit of this story. Thank you once again! Forwards oh!


	11. The Middle

**II.** _ **Ab Absurdo**_

* * *

 **THEN**

 **June 26, 2004**

 **To: 52**

 **Fr: hjp0731**

hello sam,

my name is harry james potter. i'm your brother. i sent you letters over the past year or so but you have not replied. dean said not to trust you to communicate well. here is hoping my letters got lost in the mail and not your rubbish bin. i am in america now. i don't have a number yet. if you would like to chat, call dean. we are going to be in utah to do a hunt for bobby.

\- hjp

* * *

 **Paolo Alto, CA**

It was a chore that she didn't want. Yet here she was, again. Shitty deal as far as she was concerned. But whatever Pappy Potter wanted, he received. The chore wasn't a difficult one. Just watch the young man known as Samuel Winchester without causing alarm and to divert any mail addressed to the kid back to the main house. Afterwards, report back to home if anything happened.

Helena Jane "Hel" Kowalski-Potter eyed her mark's usual space. There he was again. Tall, lanky and baby-faced Mr. Samuel "Sam" Winchester wandered into the largely quiet rustle and bustle of Cecil H. Green's with a hopeful yet careful gaze about the hall. She saw him once again try to fold himself in half in a poor attempt not to be noticed. She huffed. It was useless trying to hide someone nearing Lumberjack Bunyan's height.

Hel resigned herself to carefully reading between the lines. Sam was having an off day today. His very demeanour screamed he wanted out from the crowded library. However, he was met by that tall, perky blonde girl from Psychology. Seeing the girl, she couldn't help but smirk. The girl posing as Jessica Moore: a cheerleader from Ohio who had gotten amazing grade point averages was far from the cookie-cutter image that she posed. If anything Hel knew that Jezebel Potter (it was supposedly easier to respond if her cover name was close enough to her real name – a lazy tactic) had been smart about this assignment from Pappy. At least the other girl had gotten closest to him out of anyone. Hel was there as back-up and security. It was something that never failed to amuse her greatly.

She quickly pretended to read _The Crucible_ for the umpteenth time when she saw the duo approach her way. She barely acknowledged the slight nod Jez gave her way. Listening with straining ears she caught their exchange.

"San Francisco – I'm so excited!" Jez grinned. Sam didn't speak and followed the blonde. She casually followed after them when they got past her table without looking like she was stalking.

"Me too, I can't wait to see Alcatraz." Sam grinned widely as the blonde teased him for being typically himself.

"You also have an appointment on Saturday morning right?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Dean and – well you know – they're going to be there to meet me."

"Hm," Jez nodded. "It's so weird you can have bank appointments on a Saturday."

Hel paused when it was obvious they were going down a less crowded hall. She recognized that they were heading towards the parking lot.

"Yeah I guess. You know how I feel about this. Do you think it's the right choice?" Sam asked solemnly.

The duo stopped – forcing Hel to also casually stroll past towards the end of the hall. She ignored the glance she received from the tall boy or the lilting smirk about her cousin's gaze. She strolled around the corner where some lockers and doors to other classrooms were as she pretended to be innocuous. She was still close enough to listen in on them talk.

"Sammy," Jez began. "You've got to stop second guessing everything and go with your gut. You told me that if it wasn't for that e-mail you wouldn't have known about your younger brother. Something tells me you want to have family around. Not only that but your big brother Dean was the one suggesting you all meet up; all very respectful to your needs and space. So what's wrong now?"

"Nothing," Sam bit out. "Nothing is wrong – I just, well okay fine – something about this just seems weird to me. Like I get a new brother out of the blue all of a sudden and he says he wrote me letters since what March about a year ago? Not only that but my older brother, my uncle and my dad all knew about this kid? Then to top it off, a fancy bank wants to see me on a Saturday? Just, in my world – this never happens and if it does then it's usually bad."

There was a quiet there as Hel listened carefully to Sam's words. Her mind going one-eighty as she realized what was going on. Pappy Potter was sometimes his own worst enemy. Not only that but from the sounds of things; the Lord Heir of Britain had finally made his move. She knew that her grandfather was _**not**_ going to be pleased.

There was a rustling as if their hands were touching. From her listening point Hel could make out the quiet suck and pucker of mouths. Ew, maybe wrong choice of phrase there. _Merlin's Left Ball, do they have to suck face each time he gets all angst ridden?_

"I think you're making a big deal out of a mole hill and whatever happens it will turn out fine. Just try not to shoot first before asking questions. Asking questions is kind of your thing. Come on, let's get some ice cream and figure out what we'll do once we get down to the Bay."

Hel watched the couple walk by her. She bit her bottom lip wondering whether she should call her Pappy about this development. Then again, he probably already knew. She sighed before taking a deep breath to take the Nokia from her pocket. There was no point continually following Jez and Sam around like a stalking shadow. Hitting a few buttons, she dialled a well-known number before respectfully greeting her Pappy.

"You knew about Harry didn't you?"

 **\- 01. The Middle –**

 **July 10, 2004**

 **San Francisco, CA**

The fresh clean air intermingling with sea brine was the first thing Harry smelled as he faced the ocean. Somewhere behind him Dean was getting them some food to eat. The Impala was parked not too far away and the duo were enjoying some time together before meeting with Sam Winchester and Gringotts. When Sam had replied to his e-mail stating he never received letters, Harry had had a feeling as to why. As "Lord Heir of the House Potter" he realized he had had some obligations.

"Here," Dean roughly shoved his way beside him as quickly as Harry stuffed his pensive thoughts back into the box inside his head. "Some of Aunt Fanny's best."

Harry took the hot dog and a steaming hot pretzel his brother handed over in greasy paper. The teen nodded in thanks. Without the ferocity of Dean who was already a quarter of the way done his food – the brunet quickly mowed down his meal. They stood in silence watching the grey water lap up against the sides of the wharf. They could hear voices around them of people enjoying the tourist trap.

"I have only been to the ocean once." Harry said quietly as he stared out at the open water. Dean grunted, waiting for the teen to continue. "I was eleven. It was also late at night and my uncle rowed us all the way from the main land to this rickety shack in the middle of nowhere."

Dean scoffed at that. "Your uncle was an idiot."

Harry winced. Thinking about that side of the family caused him to remember the image of Dudley's tongue being cut from his head. Last he heard about half a year ago, his cousin had been going to therapy for the trauma he'd experienced as well as a special school for signing. Something his goblin advisors had erected for him at his behest. His "Aunt Marge" had taken Dudley in with some disdain. He hadn't heard any updates since. He tried to stay away from thoughts about the Dursleys. They hadn't deserved what they received.

"Sam called me while I was getting food," Dean continued (ignoring the grimace on Harry's face when he had mentioned Vermin – the teen's late uncle). "He and his girlfriend are going to meet us down by Pier 33. They're going on that thing for Alcatraz and invited us to go with. We still have a few hours before that meeting."

Harry nodded. "Guess we better get going."

The duo walked towards said Pier. Neither of the brothers seemed to notice the young woman with piercing grey eyes and platinum bob following after them. Together they made quite an interesting pair. The older semi-conscious of the various appreciative looks they received from the female persuasion. The younger was lost in thought and didn't see it.

"Hey," Dean nudged him as they were rounding up the sidewalk. "Walk taller – look."

Harry almost stumbled at his brother's words. He glanced frantically to where his brother sent a quick smirk to a gaggle of girls in short shorts and variations of a thin-strapped tank top that even Hermione would have punched him for looking at. "Er?"

His older brother sighed and shook his head. "You have a long way to go my friend."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I already have someone in mind for that thanks."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes."

"Who is she?" Dean watched and couldn't help but have the shit-eating grin that crossed his face as he saw his younger brother turn the brightest red he had ever seen. That sort of red came across in the low-lit grey of the weather around them even. The punk ass kid was adorable. Harry muttered a name. "I didn't quite get that."

Shuffling forward Harry ignored Dean completely, throwing away the remaining wrappers of his pretzel and hot dog at a nearby bin.

"Girl, name." Dean stated.

"Already told you."

"Didn't hear it."

"Git."

"Brat."

It was so easy being brothers with the younger boy. The kid was like him, Sammy, Bobby and John rolled into one. How that could happen in any one person Dean didn't know. Harry had the kindness of Bobby, the youthful curiosity of Sam, the gruffness of John (they had dealt with a few ghosts already; each time Harry took the job with near militaristic precision) and the devil-may-care spirit he emulated. It was fucking awesome. The older of the brothers hoped that his other younger brother would see that.

Tossing his own wrapper into the same trash can Harry did; the duo continued their friendly banter. Getting more competitive with the name calling as they got closer to the pier they would meet Sam at.

"Jackass."

"Moron," Harry uttered. "You used that already."

"Yeah well, you are one." Dean fired back.

"Arse."

"Dean, you jerk." An unfamiliar voice piped up.

Instinctively without breaking the look he had on Harry, Dean responded with, "Shut up bitch."

The look of consternation that crossed Harry's face made the older one startle back a step. The tall Goliath of a young man behind them looked faintly embarrassed yet amused. The younger of the brothers blinked. Sam Winchester was definitely not what Harry had expected.

Tall, baby faced with deep eyes that pulled a person in with their earnestness. It made sense that the guy was studying up to be a barrister. Harry also wondered why the hell he hadn't grown any taller. Both his brothers were giants in male-mundane glory. Hagrid was still larger and taller than either of them due to being half-giant. However, Merlin's Saggy Balls, Harry wished he could have gotten the same lanky height. Even his best friend was pushing 1.89m and could rival Sam in that department. Harry? He'd be lucky to make it to 1.75m by the time he matured.

"And who are you sweetheart?"

Both Sam and Harry subconsciously shared a sigh. Of course, trust Dean to home in on the only female in their presence. It wasn't as if the man was a horn dog, he only acted like it ever so often.

"Jessica Moore." The blonde said casually with a raised brow. "So you're Dean."

Harry thought she made that sentence a mix of amused condescension as if she wasn't impressed. He also noted that Dean was doing that thing again. The one where his older brother passively flirted while assessing the woman (hell, it even applied to some men – Harry didn't think Dean even noticed he did that) for their danger level. The youngest of John's offspring although quiet shared a quick look with the middle brother.

As far as first impressions went – Sam thought the kid was the introverted type still going through the gawky teenaged phase. Tan khaki pants, red sneakers, faded bomber jacket – it was like looking at a miniature version of Dean or their dad. Except there were some differences such as his build being a bit smaller and leaner than either he or the young man making eyes at his girl. He pulled Jessica closer to his side.

"Guess we're checkin' out Alcatraz. Imagine what ghostlike horrors there'll be there?" Dean grinned widely.

"Plenty I imagine." Harry replied drily. Jessica, Harry thought didn't suit his older middle brother very well. Her long, curly, blonde hair past her hips was indeed pretty to look at. She was a Californian beauty with tanned skin and flashing blue eyes. There was just something off about her he couldn't quite place. The way she looked at him also made him feel like a lab rat. He had not survived this long by not following his instincts.

He'd keep an eye on her.

"Stop staring," Dean cuffed Harry at the back of his head. Sam and Jessica were looking at him oddly. Harry blushed he must have been staring at Sam's girlfriend a little too long.

"I'm sorry about that." He muttered.

"You're welcome. I didn't know you were British." Jessica grinned.

Harry shrugged. "What gave it away?"

If possible the blonde's mouth went wider and both his older brothers looked at him with a mixture of pride/joy (Dean) and amused confusion (Sam).

"Quit being a space case, we've got some jail cells to check out – right Sammy?"

"Oh God, let's go Jess." Sam sighed as he pulled his girlfriend after him.

"Dean, you're a git."

"Brat, what are you talking about?"

If this was what having another brother was like – Sam took comfort that at least Jess was with him. She squeezed his side a merry smile on her beautiful face. She was perfection in a person. He had never in his entire life felt like this for anyone. This thing with having a brother he never knew about had been hard on them. While he knew he would have plenty of time to discuss things with Dean. He had to choose his moments carefully. For now though, he'd do his best to follow along and keep things awkwardly light.

Meanwhile, the group didn't realize they were being followed except Jessica who knew her cousin was shadowing them. She hated not having her magic or showing it off. The blonde hadn't realized that one night volunteering for some no-maj convention and meeting that creepy Brendan? Brodie? Brady? That guy – she never would have met Sam as easily if it had been organic since that guy introduced the pair of them. That had been like her house Wampus winning at Quodpot in her books.

However, around Sam and especially Dean – showing her skills probably wasn't a good idea. After all, there was the Statute to consider as there was also Hunters. Looking backwards slightly and casually; she saw a flash of platinum disappear round the corner. Hel was there, as always, thankfully. She let out a sigh and leaned closer to Sam. He really was a great guy.

Meanwhile, Hel was feeling as if she was highly prized baby-sitter and the young man who met her before the quartet made it to the ferry entrance grinned back.

"My dear little Hel, how's baby-sitting the Lord Heir Potter turned dud?" the flamboyantly dressed man in lavender suit with matching fedora and shoes grinned toothily. His mocha skin contrasted well with the colour and Hel wished he hadn't been so completely homosexual. Jacob Brown was the third grand-son of Queenie and Jacob Kowalski through their youngest and most mischievous daughter Amelia who married into the Potter family clan through Alexander Brown. Keeping track of family lines on this side of the pond was still a thing. After all, they were descendants of a great and noble family even if sixty-five percent of them were clueless as walls.

"Security reasons as usual Jacob," was her soft response. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, you know how Pappy gets." He grinned. "I am here of course to provide you with some back up when they reach Alcatraz."

"Wonderful." Hel sighed. This mission was getting so complicated. Damn that kid for giving up his magic. He hadn't realized the repercussions had he?

"Shall we head off to the other side?" Jacob asked as he loftily offering his arm to her as she took it; both sharing joyless grins. No one had heard them speaking because both magically disappeared after that. In fact – no one even saw them because witches and wizards in America had learned to become very good at concealment charms.

Harry shuddered when he felt a cool, quiet breeze ruffle his hair. Jessica turned towards him and offered a smile. Harry awkwardly returned it. They both listened to the brothers realizing how close Dean and Sam were. The effortless way they discussed things as mundane as the sports they both followed; the teen realized then and there – he had a lot to learn about the Winchesters.

"I'm telling you the Rangers have a better chance of winning the series than the Royals." Sam argued with Dean as the older pair.

"While usually I'd agree and put my money down for the Rangers, I have a feeling it's going to be a tie." Dean said. "Both equally matched and – "

"Beg pardon," Harry interjected. "What are you talking about?"

"Baseball," were the double responses he received from his brothers. Raising his eyebrows he watched as both Dean and Sam looked at him with twin expressions of pity. Respectively, both Sam and Dean responded with: "Wait, you're British." And "I thought I told you about it."

The resulting discussion and explanation of America's greatest past time took them all the way to Alcatraz. Harry knew his brothers were into sports. A commonality the three of them both shared. While Harry was into Quidditch – thanks to Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan – they kept him updated with muggle sports. Needless to say – he favoured both rugby and football; hated cricket.

"Never pegged you for a rugby fan," Sam grinned. "I liked soccer myself when we were younger."

"Pansy ass sport that is." Dean growled.

"Wow, this is all very fascinating." Jess remarked. She had been listening to all three brothers and couldn't believe how similar they were even though she knew Sam hadn't seen Dean in a very long time and this was his first meeting with his younger, mysterious brother. "I can now see how you'd all be related."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked immediately, hard eyes on the girl. Sam shot a glare at his brother the same time Harry subconsciously clapped an arm on his older brother's shoulder. The middle brother also quickly glanced at his girlfriend who had taken a quick step back.

"Whoa, it's a good thing." The blonde girl remarked. "All of you seem to know what each other are talking about even if you sound as if you are not talking about the same thing."

There was an uncomfortable silence as the three men eyed each other. Technically they were still somewhat strangers (Sam, Harry) and while they had hunted together (Dean and Sam; Dean and Harry) – none of them really addressed how they felt about being related. It was an awkward group that descended upon the pier of Alcatraz. Jessica murmured an apology which – while the gesture was kind – the damage had been done.

Mentioning she wanted to take some pictures of the views alone, the blonde girl marched ahead of them. Harry followed after Dean and Sam who looked at him.

"Uh, Harry," the eldest of the brothers said. "Do you mind if I have a few moments alone to chat with Sam?" Harry shrugged and followed after Jessica albeit a slower pace while his older brothers stayed behind.

Probably the worst move any of them could have done but of course – they hadn't known it at the time.

Sam glared at Dean. "What's going on Dean?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.

"Your attitude towards Jessica for one thing," Sam stated. "What the hell you're doing teaching a kid how to hunt for another and does dad know?"

"Sam I'm not teaching a kid how to hunt, he already knows." here Dean took a breath. "Look it's been almost two years since you left. I didn't want to disrespect your space or bring you back when you were obviously out. Also while your girl is pretty and way above your paygrade, there's just something about her that screams to me that you have to be careful. Oh and for the record: everyone from dad to Bobby to Jim and Caleb know about Harry. I only found out about last year. You should have gotten something back in March."

Sam gave him the infamous bitch face. The one Dean simultaneously hated and missed.

"So dad knew he had another kid all this time?"

"Yeah."

The brothers shared a moment of quiet and understood anger. The resentment they had for John while different about certain things. Both had a bone to pick with the man. Sam clenched his jaw only to look up with a shout.

"HEY!" Dean turned around and felt terror flood his veins.

Harry who had been quietly reading a plaque near the port had gotten accosted by a group of strange people wearing dark navy cloaks. Cloaks like something out of comic book and rushing him away. Sadly a group of Asian tourists blocked their view despite being taller than most of them. Shoving their way past – they had barely a moment before they realized, Harry was gone.

"Son of a bitch." Dean hissed. That kid disappeared more times than a puff of smoke.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Well, well, well - another update and lookit; Sam! It only took a number of chapters before he showed up. Did I do okay with this? Was it weird, off? I mean it's awkward writing all three of them at once. Plus a whole bunch of other characters are showing up. As you can see, we're incorporating bits of MACUSA with some more OCs thrown in. I highly recommend looking up Pottermore and looking up a name similar to Harry's last one.

 **Differences of Magic** : While clearly there are differences in the rules of how magic works in both the Supernatural and HP realms; I thought very hard about their similarities. I would suggest re-reading " _Don't Open Your Eyes_ " and " _On the Other Side_ " as there are some clues there. There could also be some clues from Hermione's bits. Theorize and let me know! :)

 **orionastro** \- Thank you!

 **Umbra Venator** \- Thank you for catching that; yeah I see what you mean. I'll fix that and thanks for being specific about the section too - it helped me find it!

 **a person d** \- You're welcome for the music and thank you for your kind words. Carver Edlund's mind is a beautiful, mysterious and wonderful place to be - filled with light and zero Darkness.

 **Vengeance-Angel2010** \- Got it in one. We're getting into the more AU aspects of the story and allow for more action, blood, excitement and maybe even raunchy scenes of debauchery involving twins; maybe an angel but not together. ;P ;D I could be joking about that last bit.

 **TheFlowerofRomance** \- You're lovely, thank you for your wonderful and extra long review with all the questions! I enjoyed reading it so much! On the right track though; or I could be trolling. I like to joke around but hopefully many of your questions will be eventually answered.

Thank you very kindly to all of those who have followed and favourited this story. I greatly appreciate it! I enjoy reviews as you can tell and feel thankful you're even reading this bit of insanity. Greatly appreciate you, have an awesome day!


	12. Perfect Strangers

**PREVIOUSLY…**

 _As far as first impressions went – Sam thought the kid was the introverted type still going through the gawky teenaged phase. Tan khaki pants, red sneakers, faded bomber jacket – it was like looking at a miniature version of Dean or their dad. Except there were some differences such as his build being a bit smaller and leaner than either he or the young man making eyes at his girl. He pulled Jessica closer to his side._

 _Keeping track of family lines on this side of the pond was still a thing. After all, they were descendants of a great and noble family even if sixty-five percent of them were clueless as walls._

 _Sam glared at Dean. "What's going on Dean?"_

" _What are you talking about?" Dean asked._

" _Your attitude towards Jessica for one thing," Sam stated. "What the hell you're doing teaching a kid how to hunt for another and does dad know?"_

 _Harry who had been quietly reading a plaque near the port had gotten accosted by a group of strange people wearing dark navy cloaks. Cloaks like something out of comic book and rushing him away. Sadly a group of Asian tourists blocked their view despite being taller than most of them. Shoving their way past – they had barely a moment before they realized, Harry was gone._

" _Son of a bitch." Dean hissed. That kid disappeared more times than a puff of smoke._

* * *

 **WAY BACK THEN**

 **Gringotts**

 **London, UK**

"State your business." Bloodclaw commanded.

"The most important is to obtain the services of a trusted and powerful Curse Breaker. The second is to review and make changes to the Potter Accounts." Harry replied swiftly. He didn't rise yet from the bow as he had read that, goblins on their territory held the cards.

The being in front of Harry was stoic at the respect shown him. Apart from Dumbledore – most wizards didn't know the rites of conduct. If Bloodclaw recalled from his great-grandnephew Filius – they had a ghost who had been instrumental to that one uprising back in the nineteenth century teaching history! Most of it about the bloody revolts from a wizarding only experience. Apparently, the Board of Governors didn't want to exorcise the old Binns because it meant more money. No wonder relations between Gringotts and the Ministry were stagnating.

"Rise and proceed the request."

Harry stood up shakily as he was gestured to have a seat in front of the goblin. Bloodclaw quickly opened one of the books causing the other two to stack upon themselves to the side.

"To the first point, we shall employ our services to that point with a fee of thirty-five percent off your monthly stipend. This is equivalent to 350 Galleons. There will be an additional service fee dependent on the difficulty of services required."

Harry fidgeted when Bloodclaw stared down at him. "Better make it eighty percent, all in for services rendered from the Curse Breaker, two rubies from the main vault and a blood debt contract should things go poorly."

The goblin stared.

"Off record," Harry stated. "They will be implementing a set of protective wards and glyphs in a magical tattoo ink of my making that require a specific set of magic to create that I cannot do on my own. It isn't dangerous exactly but if anything goes wrong – they'll need at least something for their family should they die."

"Are you mad boy?"

"Er…perhaps?"

There was a silence in the chamber before a distinguished fountain pen and ink set appeared before the goblin. With long fingers he scratched upon the Potter book. Instantly he tapped a finger upon the pages and a scroll length contract was placed in front of Harry. The boy stared at the pages. This was truly the first time he acted as what the wizarding world called a Lord Heir.

"On record, you will sign these contracts. Gringotts will forego usual protocol of having a Barrister present to overlook the terms and conditions."

Harry took a deep breath and read over the contract. Usual provisions as to who was responsible for what was laid out in words and terms that Hermione would've understood if she were here. Still, the brunet haired male got the gist of it. There were even provisions for the provisions which he never considered.

"It has to go to the next of kin that has greatest need and less desire for treasure." Harry remarked. "Additional clauses to include would be to have a portkey to bring us to a secured location for a set time to begin the procedure and portkeys back to our homes." The additions caused Bloodclaw to scratch the provision, filled it in the Potter book before him and the contract in the teen's hand changed. Re-reading that part whilst looking for any loopholes and finding none, he deemed the contract fine.

"Thank you." Harry murmured – signing with the fountain pen as presented by Bloodclaw. "We will have to arrange a meeting time."

"Next week at six o'clock in the morning on the same day as this," Bloodclaw grinned nastily; Harry didn't shrug at the wake-up time as he had grown accustomed to waking up earlier than even that. "There is a Curse Breaker I know who specializes in magical tattoos."

"Good, to the second point – I would like to review all Potter accounts and to make appropriate changes as deemed necessary within the realm of my power as Lord Heir." Harry said.

"We are nearing the end of the hour Mr. Potter." Bloodclaw stated firmly. "I can give you a copy of all statements from all accounts under the name Potter for your review and any changes can be sent through usual means as long as the seal is upon those documents."

Harry took a deep breath. "I do not have the seal."

"No you would not, that does not appear until you are of age."

"Then reviewing the accounts would be pointless for me." Harry muttered.

"As Lord Heir – a secondary seal with your intent of becoming Lord Heir will secure any changes you make thus far. It is a loophole often used by many of the elite families in the even their Lord Heir is under age of majority." Bloodclaw explained with a twinkle in his gaze. His great grandnephew did not mention how delightful having a Potter (but not a Potter) as an heir could be. The amount of eyes rolling, heads being chopped off and blood that could come from such changes the young man before him would be one for the Chronicles of Goblin Lore! He so loved watching those narcissistic assholes called wizards and witches fall upon their own swords so to speak.

"Right," Harry stated. "I revise my second request to obtaining a secondary seal and records of all the Potter accounts for my perusal if you would be so kind."

"Request processed and carried forward." Bloodclaw intoned as three leather booklets with a black and white Potter Seal on each were stacked magically upon the table. Harry watched in awe as goblin magic was seriously cooler and more fascinating than the norm. A simple brown box with the Potter emblem at the front also appeared and a strange pen knife was also presented to him.

"Please kindly release a droplet of blood upon the box."

Harry gulped. "Won't that kill me as I'm not really a Potter?"

Bloodclaw glared. The teen slit his palm with the knife – which was surprisingly sharp. He then watched fascinated as the box glowed blue and the front part of it unlocked. "The process of confirmed magical adoption has been executed. The Last Lord Potter's final act as Lord has been fulfilled. Harry James Potter son of Lady Lily Evangeline Potter (née Evans) and John Eric Winchester, adopted son to the Lord James Fleamont Potter has accepted the responsibilities of being the True and Noble Lord Heir of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. The Giving of the Stewardship Key has been completed."

The teen was like a young goblin fresh out of training camp: wide eyed and gullible.

"What?" Harry was given the box he had just bled over despite his hands shaking as he automatically stowed it and the copies of his family's accounts into his messenger bag.

"Off record, I suggest upon your next visit to have read _Inheritances: Stewardship, Lordship and the Councils of Magic_ by Elias Hodgson. It will explain all of what has happened. On record, this concludes today's meeting. Good day Lord Heir Potter." Bloodclaw and the original books regarding the potter accounts disappeared. Leaving Harry to walk out of the room, out of Gringotts, still in disguise as he hovered about the rest of the time frame he had given Nathan buying supplies. One thought churned through his head.

 _How did they know about John?_

 **\- 02. Perfect Strangers -**

 **PRESENT**

 **Alcatraz**

 **San Francisco, CA**

This was not good. Sam thought as he stared at the spot his stranger-new brother had been at. Beside him Dean was looking around, in fact both of them was. They were both quickly on the defensive when Jessica came into the scene.

"Whoa, take it easy." The blonde arched a finely shaped brow. "What's up? Where's Harry?"

The two brothers shared a quick look with Sam shrugging with a strained smile. "He went to look at a couple of displays inside. We should get going there right Dean?"

"Right, I just got to call somebody back I'll follow after you." Dean replied. "I'll find Harry and we'll come with soon."

Sam nodded and shuffled towards his girlfriend giving a very slight look over his shoulder as he tried to naturally lead them onwards. Dean was already on the phone, back turned against him.

"Sam," Jess paused suddenly rounding on him. "What's going on?"

Before the tall, lanky brunet could make up something he looked towards his older brother as a platinum blonde in a white suit came up to him "I-I don't – Dean!" Sam began only to watch gobsmacked as his brother suddenly disappeared with the white suit.

Wasn't that weird? In a crowded place like this – seeing anyone vanish in a puff of nothingness should have been odd. Yet no one had turned to look except Sam. He struggled against tightening fingers digging into his side. He was trying for the cell his brother dropped only to pause to look down at Jess.

"I'm sorry Sam." The blonde stated. Before he could figure out what was happening – they too disappeared with a quiet pop.

They didn't notice or see another person watching the events with alarm.

This was not good. Leslie Boot had just witnessed a kidnapping. He recognized the scarlet cloaks of those who took Mr. Potter and subsequently the most notorious femme fatales of the magical world take Mr. Winchester and Mr. Winchester. Without ado, he collected the no-maj communication device and heard the spluttered shouts of a weathered voice on the other end. Frowning momentarily Leslie noted the man's name before shrugging as he activated his cross national portkey.

"The Scarlet Faction has taken hold of Lord Heir Potter and his companions." He said the moment he landed. The President turned from her spot with flashing green eyes.

"Location?"

"Alcatraz, they had an appointment at roughly forty-five minutes after eleven with a Gringotts representative and had taken to sight-seeing prior to."

The President's lips pursed together. _What the hell was old Reuben Potter up to now?_

"Gather the Hadrians, it is time to see old Pappy Potter." Again.

 _ **\- corrigenda -**_

 **Unknown Location**

 **Potter's Escape – Basement Hall**

"Well that went smoothly." Jacob commented absently looking to Hel who had had to stupefy the one called Dean Winchester. The pair was following after a couple of Scarlet cloaks Pappy had assigned to guard over their prisoners.

"LET ME GO!"

There was a scuffle behind them and the floating body of Dean Winchester hit the wall. Hel would have grimaced at that since she hadn't meant to hurt anyone. She pulled with her magic to insure the floating body of the older brother wasn't injured. It seemed as if Sam Winchester was not going out without a fight. Jez growled and put her wand to the back of the struggling (possibly had giant blood in him – wouldn't put it past Scourers not to intermingle) male's head.

" _Stupefy_." Jez hissed. Sam dropped like a sack of potatoes. All winced when they heard the slight crack against the corridor wall. The blonde sighed. "Merlin, these idiots don't know when to quit."

Jacob snorted. "Didn't you have sex with that one?"

"About all he was good for. Most of the time he worried too much about being normal." The blonde shrugged.

Hel dismissed her cousin, checked over her floating package before following the now continuously moving figures in front of her. In the back of her mind she wondered why the hell Pappy was going through all this trouble. It wasn't as if the Lord Heir thing would actually stick once it was proven he wasn't a Potter through Gringotts. And besides, they'd need the kid to hand over the Stewardship Key too if they were even to have access that kind of wealth. Whatever – again what Pappy Potter wanted, Pappy Potter got. Maybe the old man had a plan to get both.

 _ **\- corrigenda -**_

 **Sioux Falls, SD**

"Dean? Dean! Dammit!" Bobby cursed. Dean was in the middle of freaking out over the phone because that younger brother of his had disappeared again. It also sounded like both the Winchester boys had also gotten into the thick of it also. If anything he had to go by based on the background noise or scuffles – they too were kidnapped. The young Brit had no sense of decorum when it came to giving people heart attacks. The older hunter sighed. He didn't even know where to start apart from what Harry had told him regarding his plans. He'd have to get some help fast.

Dialling an old number – he waited patiently. After the message played out, he disregarded the instructions the other man had left behind about calling Dean for emergencies. Without Dean – no emergencies could be handled anyway.

"You get your ass down to San Francisco. Your boys just gotten kidnapped and that's their last known location. If you need any more details call me – I've got research to do."

He hung up then and there. Not a minute later his phone rang.

"What do you mean they're kidnapped? Where the hell are my boys?"

"About damn time you idjit." Bob groaned as he flipped through the books Harry loaned him regarding America's Magical history. "Someone's kidnapped them from San Francisco. Last I heard all three of 'em were meetin' each other for the first time. Well – "

"Three of them?"

"You know your spawn Winchester."

There was silence on the other end. "Harry."

"You got it in one."

There was another pause. "Fuck."

"You're tellin' me. Now get down to Frisco. Apparently they were supposed to be meetin' someone named Tino Scamander down at Union Plaza at eleven forty-five this morning –"

"What?"

"Look, at least it's something to go on okay." Bobby said. "Even if you can't get there fast enough and – John? John? Are you even listenin'?"

Over the crackling of the air waves in the phone, Bobby could hear the bustle of people and noise. Suddenly there was a rush and a gasp of breathing in between each time he called out the other hunter's name.

"Bobby, I'm here. Look I'm actually at Union Square now; been checkin' up on Sammy and getting into a case out by Hillsborough with Caleb." John muttered while simultaneously annoying Bobby with confirmation that the asshole had been keeping tabs on his wayward son regardless of the way they left it. "What does this Tino guy look like?"

"Don't know is the problem. Harry said to look for a guy wearing a '40s suit." Bobby replied.

John's scowl could be heard all the way through the phone line. "I'll call you as soon as I spot anyone fitting that. Later."

"Balls!"

Winchesters and their offspring would kill him one of these days.

 **-** _ **corrigenda**_ **-**

 **Potter's Escape – Basement Hall**

 **Unknown Location**

Harry knew he was in trouble. He found himself waking in a dark, cold room – arms tied behind his back in chains. He remembered walking briefly towards a plaque when he was accosted by a group of five people dressed in scarlet robes.

Next thing he knew, he'd been stupefied.

"He's now awake sir as requested." A baritone voice said.

"Thank you Jacob, please stand by. Helena dear, please ensure your cousin Jezebel has thoroughly distracted those brothers. We do not want any more interference from Gringotts yes?"

Fuck it all. Fuck it.

Struggling against his bindings he couldn't help but look up in defiance to the tall, stately man who crossed the threshold of what could be only his prison.

"Good day Mr. Harry James Potter – or should I say Winchester – welcome to the United States of America," the man greeted in a low Southern drawl. "You are quite a trouble maker young man. I would say just like your father but I have never met him. My cousin was always very deliberate in not allowing his heir such a circumstance. My dear mother Dorea would have a fit over the circumstances."

"How would you know about my father?" Harry asked trying to figure out his chains.

"Every Potter born is recorded in the Annals of Magical Birth," the stately man replied. "You should know that given that it is in the trust of the Potter Heir to know exactly which members of their family are magical."

"I never got that lesson."

"Of course you would not have been taught such," a gleam entered the man's eyes. "You are not a Potter after all."

Harry felt his heart race and he looked hard at the man before him. "I am Harry James Potter, adopted heir to the late Lord James Potter of the Noble and Ancient House. Regardless of my birth, he accepted me as heir and I have taken on the mantle."

"Not by blood you have not." The stately man proceeded. "Do you know who I am child?"

Calming his heart – Harry kept his lips pursed. The silence was broken only by their breaths.

"No."

The man smiled then, a slice of malice on an otherwise kindly face. "Good, then it is time to educate you."

Harry gave a startled cry of pain as the stately older man ripped through the teen's clothes with a slash of his wand. The magic grazed enough to sting and cut through skin. Rivulets crowded the tiny incisions.

The stately man with the Southern accent only grinned, grim. It widened even more so when he saw the names tattooed on the boy's chest. He shook his head, "You stupid child."

 **-** _ **corrigenda**_ **-**

"Harry?" he heard a familiar voice. The teen groaned and with puffed eyes looked blearily to his left. It could have been hours, minutes, days – the stately man had inflicted cuts and wounds all over his body. The part about the names though – that one hurt worse.

"Dean?"

The two brothers stared at each other. The older stiffening when he saw the battered way Harry looked at the scarring on the boy's chest. It was a tattoo. It was mangled thing where he could barely make out his name in the half-light of their tiny prison. _DEAN WINCHESTER_ was scrawled on the space just below his teen brother's heart. They didn't have long for witty banter as the door of their prison opened.

"YOU BITCH!" The tall, lanky frame of the middle Winchester was thrust inside magically bound by the unwavering wand of the same platinum haired girl Dean last saw.

"How the hell did he manage to break being stupefied?" The girl muttered.

" _Silencio_ ," a lazy Southern drawl called out. "Hurry up Hel, Pappy does not want to keep the goblins waiting."

A dark man in a lavender suit had come in behind the girl. The man waved his wand and the ropes that once held Sam were replaced by similar chains that held his brothers. He, like all of them was then magically stuck to the wall.

"Hey you!" Dean called out to the girl.

" _Silencio_ ," The dark man drawled out again. "Just like the descendants of Scourers not to know manners."

"Jacob." The girl warned before turning away from a silently loathing Sam. "You know that charm only lasts a couple of hours."

"A couple hours are all we need before Pappy starts bleeding them." Jacob shrugged. "Oh, my, not so lordly is he from this angle?"

The light haired girl looked over at Harry. A look crossed her face – a pitiful one. "Well, he won't be lord for long. You know how these things go."

The pair left and Harry felt ice run through his veins at that admission. His brothers' chains rattled beside him. He paid them no mind. Everything he had done – it had been for nothing.

"It's no use." Harry muttered. There was a pause in his brothers' struggles – he watched as Dean tried to speak but gave up when he realized the mojo on him caused him to be silenced. "They're wand waving witches and wizards."

At the mention of the word "witches" Sam seemed to panic. He was speaking but stopped mid-tirade when he saw neither of the other males in the room understood what he was getting at. Harry felt the raw wounds of the loving incisions made across his chest by the stately man only minutes before either of his brothers appeared.

"I am so sorry." Harry whimpered. "I brought this upon us all."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Thanks once again for the reviews, follows and favourites. Hope this one was okay – we're probably going to get physical in the next chapter. Hugs!


	13. Papa Don't Preach

**WARNING - Slightly lemony scene in the first couple of paragraphs.**

 **Really don't need to read those if you don't want to.**

* * *

 **WAY BACK THEN…**

 **Thunderbird Hotel  
Adams, Massachusetts**

 **1987**

 _Thud_.

She moaned beneath him. He felt like he was devouring that velvety pink mouth as he moved over her and around her. She just pulled him closer, her auburn hair a fan of fire behind her head.

"John – oh." Her whispered whimpers as she pulled at his head, getting him to consume those pinking peaks. John had not felt this way for any woman since Mary had died. Lily Evans had just gotten some time away from home to visit America with her best friend. She had wanted to take some time off before going back to school. When he had first met her in that bar a few days ago, he had watched as she was chatted up by so many men. Then again those legs, that hair and that accent were quite a sight to see in little cities like Adams. And boy was John glad she had taken that opportunity.

Him! An older man and didn't he feel slightly guilty about that. Yet John was going to lose himself between those fine legs. She whispered his name, asking sweet nothings in his ear.

Skin to skin, lips to lips and the intimate space between them closed. They sighed as he entered her over and over. It was well into the wee hours of the morning before they fell asleep. By the time noon came around, they were satiated enough to speak and spend time in each other's company. While his hotel room left little to be desired, Lily did not seem to mind. In fact she ended up lounging in one of his red plaid shirts.

"Thank you John." She said in that husky voice of hers that made him want to take her again.

"Hm," He murmured non-committedly. They were currently sitting across from each other – she on the bed and him by the table and chairs. Both held mugs in their hands – hers had tea and his was a strong cuppa. That had been the longest night he'd had with a woman in years. He felt oddly lighter than before, even if the compartments in his brain were working overtime while figuring out his case. "What's the plan for today?"

"Alice and I had plans to visit Mount Greylock later this afternoon." Lily replied. "We have to go near an old barn house along the way though to get to a trailhead that will connect us to a viewing area that we heard was good."

John stiffened at that and everything came crashing back to earth. He couldn't lose this woman. He decided he would accompany them, keep them safe from the monster he figured hid in the woods.

Later as he was pushed around by an ugly thing that carried poisonous darts and a vendetta against humans with an extensive collection of soul jars – that he was the one who should have worried about his own safety.

 **-** _ **corrigenda**_ **-**

"YOU'RE A WITCH!" John screamed just after the puckwudgie disappeared thanks to some mumbo jumbo Lily had conducted. He was hurt, bruised and broken. He noticed the stick that hung limply between her fingers.

"Yes I am." Lily whispered looking frail and frightened. Her friend Alice stared at them terrified and shaking. "Both of us are."

John's fingers twitched as he felt suddenly violated by the woman in front of him.

"There are different kinds of magic John." Lily grounded out. "I was born with mine and I just saved your sorry arse."

"Prove it." He snapped back.

They stood there gazing before she seemed to pull something from her pocket. Squinting through his bruised left eye he saw that it was a silver pen knife. Behind her Alice trembled and shouted: "No Lily!"

It was too late. Red rivulets dropped from the gash she tore through her skin – the knife was one he had recognized. He'd given it to her "just in case". He was partway relieved when she bled red. Then again her friend whimpered as the red-head quickly picked up the iron poker he had brought with him also for emergency. She didn't flinch when picking it up. She waved that little brown stick around in her hand and the magic he now knew she carried didn't slow or waver. He felt the broken nose he had received snap into place with a quiet word escaping her mouth.

He was in way too deep now. He stared back into those eyes. Heart stammering, fists clenching – this is why Winchesters never had good things.

 **-** _ **corrigenda -**_

He thought about Lily and Mary interchangeably after that.

See John Eric Winchester often hid behind a veneer of asshole. He wasn't a sweet man by any means underneath. Despite the words he penned into his journal about missing his late wife and often stopping himself from drawing the worst version of a lily in the corner of his pages. He didn't see himself as a romantic guy. The pitfalls of life and raising two young men into adulthood changed a person. Not having had a father to look up to since his up and left meant the Vietnam War Vet had to make do with whatever the world threw at him. He was hard as flint; striking down and burning all around him down.

At least, that's what he felt like.

He kept track of the many years his wife Mary had died. She had been for a long while the only woman who had seemed to understand him and often fought back with him in the ten or so years he had had with her. He documented all the times he could remember or had impacted him whenever the boys had asked about her. Mary had stood solid with him even as he did everything to push her away at times. The long hours as a mechanic, not having enough food on the table and sometimes the nights he binged on alcohol a little too much before slumping home while Dean slept alone. John felt he would never find another like her. His goal when raising their two sons after her death wasn't to be liked by them. His goal had been and always would be to raise Dean and Sam right. He thought he did alright and he was proud of his boys.

Dean was his eldest. The one who John had looked to with pride because despite everything he threw at him – his firstborn stood strong. The patriarch of the remaining members of the Winchester clan remembered days and nights after weeks of hunting – seeing people die or watching those creatures burn; coming home to that child's comfort. That was his one true blessing. He would always be proud of Dean; even if he never overtly showed it or said anything aloud.

Sam was his second child. Having inherited the tall genes from his side of the family – all tall and lanky now but one day he would be unstoppable. Yet, there was this gentleness about him that always threw John off because it reminded him of Mary Campbell and what fuzzy thoughts he could remember of his own father, Henry. Of course things as it were – they were at a stand-still. That last fight after everything went to hell in the state of New York had been a real breaking moment. He was proud of Sammy for knowing what he wanted at least. Even if it made him so angry at times that his kid would turn his back on the things that went bump in the night.

John had wanted to pretend that he had only two sons. He had wanted to pretend desperately that he hadn't been unfaithful to his late wife's memory. When he met Lily – she had been like a cold bottle of Miller on a hot day. He never realized he had been so parched before without her. Of course that would have changed if he had allowed it to. He'd been flung against the wall of an old farmhouse trying to get rid of a creature that had taken far too many lives. Soul jars shining brightly on old shelves; souls from those who had no magic.

The witch-woman saved his life.

He desperately wanted to deny that Lily meant anything to him. He wanted to deny that the auburn haired beauty with the lilting alto voice. Her very nature and presence entered his life like a flame that had been sparked just for him. He wanted to deny that she was a woman he could almost see himself falling as deeply in love with as Mary. Regardless of how short their time together had been.

He had told her all those years ago: "You're a witch, you're a monster – I kill monsters."

The crack in his voice at what he had seen as a betrayal. The disgust he felt at himself for straying from his late wife's memory. The shame he felt for carrying on like he was a young buck as he had two sons to raise right. The guilt he felt for being the worst type of man for taking advantage of a young woman barely out of her teens. John felt every inch of that as he spoke.

She had told him just as brokenly: "John Eric Winchester, I was willing to love you. I'm sorry if I misled you in anyway."

He didn't respond. He could not. Her gaze held him place and a part of him wondered if that monstrous thing she called magic was the thing holding him there. She had told him it was a part of her and that she hadn't made any deals for it. He had wanted proof. She bled for him by both silver and iron. He watched her stare back at him completely determined and he had noted the tremble in her hands even as Alice had told Lily not to.

He walked away after that. She was the exception to his stringent rules.

He spared her. He just couldn't kill her back then nor did he want to. Instead he left her and her beautiful eyes behind. Eyes that reminded him painfully of Mary yet spoke to him on levels he had never wanted to admit. If love at first sight could ever have occurred in his lifetime – that was Lily Evans in a nutshell for him. He did what John did best. He ran. He packed up the remains of his dignity and left back for Bobby's. While he didn't want to acknowledge the woman who had ensnared him for that short while; Lily had left an impression upon him. The fiery English rose and his beautiful wife kept him through those long hours on the open road. She had been the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted in a good long while.

 _ **\- corrigenda -**_

 _March 3, 1988_

 _Dear John,_

 _I know you might rip this apart because I'm a creature in your eyes. Like I said to you back then I'm sorry for misleading you. I thought it was more than fair though to let you know that I'm expecting. I guess we all need reminders of our mistakes._

 _Lily Evans_

 **-** _ **corrigenda**_ **-**

 _June 2, 1988_

 _Lily, you're pregnant?_

 _John_

 _ **-corrigenda-**_

 _October 31, 1989_

 _John,_

 _This is my second and last letter to you. I'm married now – to James Fleamont Potter; a man I grew up with and have come to accept as one I love. We married shortly after your letter arrived. I'm sorry I did not respond immediately. Things as it were for me are difficult. Looking back, I am now more thankful that we met. You left me with a reminder of what could have been for us and a hope for James and I. See James is sterile; an uncommon affliction for those of us with magic. It's something we do not try to talk about but apparently it is a genetic disease. He has taken care of us. I've attached a picture of your son. He was born on July 31, 1988 at 07:07 in the morning. He is a beautiful, wonderful and magical baby._

 _We are currently going into hiding as the terrorist chasing after us could find us at any time. I believe you might be able to relate. We are being chased and tracked down by a madman. The closest term you have would be a terrorist. He and his supporters are killing everyone and anyone who either stands up to him or fall under certain categories many of them believe to be lower than dirt. It's not safe to write back to me. Should anything at all happen to me – please keep our son safe? Please. He is not a monster, neither am I and I hope you best remember that._

 _Lily_

 **\- 03. Papa Don't Preach -**

 **PRESENT**

 **July 10, 2004**

 **Union Square**

 **San Francisco, CA**

John was a creature of habit. Since Sammy's departure from the life – he had taken to roaming about Paolo Alto and its surroundings either looking at cases or looking out for his second eldest. He remained in the area usually for a couple of days to check up on the boy. It had gotten worst since he had basically advised Dean a few months back to start hunting on his own. Since then, he would only text his eldest son coordinates should he find cases closer to the mid-west. Otherwise, John was on the trail for the yellow-eyed bastard who had offed Mary or trying to get more information about Harry's people.

He knew that last and only conversation he had with his third youngest had reopened the gashed up memories of the auburn haired vixen. He had tracked a number of places magicals like Harry and Lily would migrate to. He found pockets of information across San Francisco, New York, New Orleans and funny enough – Salem (Massachusettes, Virginia, New Hampshire and even Ohio). He had known about these things since after Lily left him and after he had found out he had another son.

He may not admit it but John was a family man through and through. Even though his methods were not always the greatest or the healthiest – he loved his family bone deep. He would never tell his boys or Bobby or the rest of the small hunting community that he had found all of the magical pockets he could find. He had once waited for an opportunity to speak to a magical only to be held back when he'd seen someone like him bumped into them. The magical had turned around and cast a strange spell on the person with his wand. For a moment he wondered what the magical had done only to realize to his horror – the person had forgotten the person he'd bumped into. John had asked to check to see if the normie like him was alright. The magical had been wearing a cloak.

Currently Joh was scoping of Frisco. Caleb had called him in to look into a case nearby about a haunted house that held multiple spirits – one that the other hunter couldn't quite finish off on his own. When his phone rang – he'd been too busy to pick it up since he was just finishing up his shower. When he listened to the message Bobby left for him, ice ran through the older hunter's veins.

"You get your ass down to San Francisco. Your boys just gotten kidnapped and that's their last known location. If you need any more details call me – I've got research to do."

Immediately he rang the other hunter just as he towel drying his hair. "What do you mean they're kidnapped? Where the hell are my boys?"

"About damn time you idjit." Bob groaned. John was already getting dressed while the phone was by his ear – underwear, jeans, t-shirt. He listened as the other hunter seemed to be flipping pages. "Someone's kidnapped them from San Francisco. Last I heard all three of 'em was meetin' each other for the first time. Well – "

"Three of them?"

"You know your spawn Winchester."

There was only one son who was currently in contact with any of his boys. Adam didn't know anything about anything yet, he wasn't about to reveal that to the sons he had. This life wasn't meant for kids who wanted to become doctors one day. "Harry."

"You got it in one."

There was another pause. "Fuck."

John began moving about the private room he had managed to get for a steal a few blocks away from Union. His room was clean and was being paid for in cash won through multiple rounds of billiards. He had decided to stay closer to town instead of his usual M.O. due to its proximity to the scene of investigation for one thing: The Queen Anne. He listened with half an ear as he left his tiny room and crept down the rickety steps to the main lobby of the hotel.

"You're tellin' me. Now get down to Frisco. Apparently they were supposed to be meetin' someone named Tino Scamander down at Union Plaza at eleven forty-five this morning –"

"What?" John had just got outside of the lobby and was quickly striding towards the Square near his place of lodging. His pace was quick as he made his way to the area.

"Look, at least it's something to go on okay." Bobby said. "Even if you can't get there fast enough and – John? John? Are you even listenin'?"

Over the crackling of the air waves in the phone, John had to lower his phone as he crossed down the sidewalks of people and noise. He was walking so quickly he lost some of his breath, an occurrence that didn't happen often. He had kept his phone in his jacket pocket as he meandered through; half hearing the tinny voice that came with Bobby calling out his name.

"Bobby, I'm here. Look I'm actually at Union Square now; been checkin' up on Sammy and getting into a case out by Hillsborough with Caleb." John muttered while simultaneously annoying Bobby with confirmation that the asshole had been keeping tabs on his wayward son regardless of the way they left it. "What does this Tino guy look like?"

"Don't know is the problem. Harry said to look for a guy wearing a '40s suit." Bobby replied.

John's scowled as he ended the conversation with: "I'll call you as soon as I spot anyone fitting that. Later."

Looking over the Square, he knew he had enough Intel to get an idea of the type of person he'd be looking for. After all, Harry's kind tried too hard to blend in. While he encountered many a witch or warlock – he realized quickly that there were plenty of them that had received magic from demonic influence or deals. He had had been very careful to differentiate all of them and had written some notes in a different journal about his findings.

Scanning around – he finally saw what he was looking for. Since it was mid-morning and just getting busy with the lunch hour; there were far too many people busy going about their day to see the elegant man in a well-tailored suit. While the gentleman in question had ruddy brown hair, freckles and wide lips – no one seemed to notice him except John directly. The guy was a walking pin-up for a 1945 film noir.

He blinked. What was he looking for again?

"Damn it." John hissed as he shook his head, feeling a slight headache at his temple. The magical just put up some kind of ward because he can't spot the man any more. He knew that if he even thought of looking for the man – he'd be turned around, forced to think of other things. He had encountered this multiple times over the years as he had searched for the type of communities that felt similar to the magic Lily had wielded. John couldn't get distracted, not now.

Walking stealthily – John quietly approached the general vicinity he had spotted the man. He stood stock still – within the general area before pulling up his phone. He had one of two ways to doing this and he knew that apart from shooting something (a sure fire way of getting attention and jail time); he'd have to do some "acting".

Looking out in front of him, he made a show of taking out his cell from his pocket. He pretended to tap a number of buttons before placing the machine to his ear. "Hey, Bobby – it's me. Look I can't seem to find them. I mean you said they were headed to Alcatraz right? Hm, yeah – Harry and the boys – right. Well it's about time I meet the kid. Look – I don't have to explain myself. I'm their dad. Don't tell me what to do here, they could be in danger. You said they'd be here at eleven-something? Looking for a Tino, Tony – what?"

John felt himself whirled around with a spin, hand flying and if he hadn't been so in tuned with his body; he could have very well lost his phone. He came face to face with the same man who had disappeared behind that weird magical mumbo-jumbo. There was a strong grip on his shoulder.

"Who are you?" The man hissed. John tried to shrug the hand on his left shoulder but failed. Pretending to say good-bye, John stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

"John Winchester, you Tino?"

 **-** _ **corrigenda**_ **-**

 **Potter's Escape – Basement Dungeon**

 **Unknown Location**

The kid was hyperventilating. And Dean couldn't say anything or really do much of anything. He was stuck and no amount of struggling could unbind the chains wrapped tightly around him, the same thing could be said of Sammy. Harry was crying. The fifteen year old kid was breaking down and spouting a whole bunch of hoopla. Something about it was his fault and that he should never had gone looking for him. Dean was seriously affronted and hurt.

"I did this." The kid was gasping. " **I** did this."

From the side, Sammy had stopped struggling against his chains. Instead he was staring at Harry as if looking at the kid with new eyes.

"Damn it. I mean, I went through all this bloody trouble to protect you all and here we are. Bloody fucking Potter luck – I mean couldn't it have waited until I was stronger? I mean, I'm at the level of a Squib at this point, and what's the point of getting help now? I mean Dobby – Dobby!"

Nothing happened for a moment. All was seriously quiet. Then there was a weird whistling noise and a little creature appeared out of nowhere in front of Harry. Sam and Dean were scrabbling backwards in their chains. Harry didn't even care to placate them.

"Master Harry Potter! Yous be gettin' more hurt than a Dobby sir!"

"You came, oh thank Merlin!" Harry exclaimed. "Dobby, can you free us?"

The little creature wrung its fingers and looked around him. "I be sorry sir, magic here will not let me unchain you."

"What?"

"I can make 'em speak though." There was a quick snap of fingers and Dean gasped.

"What the hell?"

There was a noise that Dobby picked up even though they couldn't. "The wards masters be comin'. I be gone now. I be 'round to help!"

The little creature disappeared with a quiet pop; Harry groaning as he struggled against his chains.

"What the hell was that thing?" Sam asked semi-curious, semi- furious, mostly confused.

"House Elf, he's a friend." Harry replied absently just as the door banged open. The stately man entered and the older Winchester brothers looked on.

"Well now, I see we're a fine mess here." He strode up to Harry. "Do you recognize me now boy?"

"Leave him alone jerk." Sammy spoke up. The stately man turned ever so slowly to face the second-eldest Winchester brother and tilted his head as if in quiet disgust. Dean wanted to shove that asshole's face down where the sun didn't shine. Or at least put him out with a bullet. Honestly, either way to shut that thing down.

"I do not take orders from no-maj scum." The stately man hissed. "I particularly won't even dare listen to descendants of the worst-known Scourers known to us all in this day and age."

"Then let them go." Harry stated through gritted teeth.

"No can do Mr. Harry – you evoked ancient magic with that little tattoo trick of yours and the only way to get rid of it is to eradicate your entire line. Now I'm not above torturing your poor bodies to get what I want but of course magic is magic and it almost always calls for blood. Not only that but this particular bit demands the lives of all those on your chest. Two of which I see are completely dead. Tell me, what do you know about the Novaks?" The stately man asked.

Harry nearly launched out from his skin. The teen's emotive rage boiled around him causing a tiny spark, almost like static electricity, to push against his chains. It went unnoticed by the stately man. Not for Sam and Dean.

 **-** _ **corrigenda**_ **-**

 **Potter's Escape – Welcome Lounge**

 **Unknown Location**

Dobby was prone to exploring. Really – it was in his nature whenever in a new house with new magic. He had to be careful of course since there were plenty of things that could go wrong. Part of a House Elf's magic was to see what wards and things were like around him so as to better accommodate his master. Mr. Harry Potter, Sir didn't know that Dobby had unofficially tied his magic around the boy. There were formal rituals of course but seeing as his ancestors were built from a mix of clay, wood, runic stones, brownie blood, goblin skin and the reason why stories like Pinocchio existed…

No matter, House Elf History was really something most people didn't care about. At the end of the day; no wards could stand up to a House Elf's brand of magic in the end. Really, they were tied to people – not places per se.

Creeping was something Dobby would say he didn't do. Investigating the magical crevasses of a house this stately in the middle of swampland was more appropriate. He didn't tell Harry but he had decided to review as many of the rooms possible and was drawn to a certain brand of magic.

"Pappy, what the hell are you thinking?" there she stood – platinum blonde hair glaring at a mirror on the wall. Curiously, Dobby looked at the woman as he quirked his head to watch. "Damn it. Damn it all."

The woman whirled about in place and headed towards Dobby's hiding place which wasn't really a hiding place – more like a door that was slightly opened into a hall. Really he was eavesdropping outside the lounge door. No sooner had she approached was no sooner that Dobby made himself scarce. Well, invisible. Really, words were strange.

It was about that same time, the House Elf felt his unofficial master's magic. It was faint, very faint. Like a hum. Immediately Dobby went to where he last saw Harry and cautiously lingered outside the door.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** I'm drawing out this torture sesh a little too long. Might have to wrap it up soon…I mean I did promise blood. Also the whole thing with the Potters stateside is going to be explained soon – just in due time. That said many thanks to the lovely reviews, follows and faves! A great big welcome to **lighting one** as well; for those of y'all confused as to where this story is going – I'm sorry! I have a master doc where I've got things vaguely plotted with some definite timeline points. If anyone wants that timeline...wait for the end of the story - there will be an Appendix. Also – did anyone catch that bit about Harry's magic? I'll troll y'all again some other time, thanks for reading and have an awesome rest of the week.


	14. Psycho

**The Road So Far**

" _Yes," Nathan said. "Certainly it has been fifteen odd years since I first came here to this time and place but I certainly recognize those types of magicks. My birth parents were oddly paranoid about those types of things. I think their home is still around somewhere hidden by the most nefarious charms. Roderick was adamant that I at least learn to know about that part of my history. In case I hunt something that wasn't – well – wasn't the norm."_

" _Remus, Sirius – this symbol – would you know of it?" Albus asked peering through half-moon glasses looking gravely at the younger men in question. Black and Lupin looked every bit as pale and pasty as they did in their youth when caught in the act. Severus focused on that and not the body parts lying about. He surveyed the living room and the strange marking around one of the chairs. It was done in blood, although it seemed as if completed in haste. He relegated the Headmaster's urgent voice to the back of his mind. "Time is of the essence gentlemen. There's a young man out there in terrible danger against forces beyond our own knowledge!"_

" _That is a demon trap." Black finally said looking up. Lupin seemed to grip his wand and glare down at his feet. "I have to tell him, I'm sorry my friend, but this has somehow become more than just a Dark Lord that refuses to die."_

" _A demon trap?" Nymphadora asked._

" _Yes," Remus finally sighed. Alastor and Kingsley looked to the werewolf who seemed to sag with the weight of the revelation. "This is often used to trap them. I saw it once before when I was a child."_

" _Hunters use them." Sirius responded. He held up a leather bound journal. "My ancestor Artemius was caught up in them around the time of someone name Helsing."_

" _Dobby will do anything to help Harry Potter!"_

 _It was a chore that she didn't want. Yet here she was, again. Shitty deal as far as he was concerned. But whatever Pappy Potter wanted, he received._

" _So dad knew he had another kid all this time?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _As Lord Heir – a secondary seal with your intent of becoming Lord Heir will secure any changes you make thus far. It is a loophole often used by many of the elite families in the even their Lord Heir is under age of majority." Bloodclaw explained with a twinkle in his gaze. His great grandnephew did not mention how delightful having a Potter (but not a Potter) as an heir could be. The amount of eyes rolling, heads being chopped off and blood that could come from such changes the young man before him would be one for the Chronicles of Goblin Lore! He so loved watching those narcissistic assholes called wizards and witches fall upon their own swords so to speak._

" _Every Potter born is recorded in the Annals of Magical Birth," the stately man replied. "You should know that given that it is in the trust of the Potter Heir to know exactly which members of their family are magical."_

" _I never got that lesson."_

" _Of course you would not have been taught such," a gleam entered the man's eyes. "You are not a Potter after all."_

 _Thud._

 _She moaned beneath him. He felt like he was devouring that velvety pink mouth as he moved over her and around her. She just pulled him closer, her auburn hair a fan of fire behind her head._

" _YOU'RE A WITCH!" John screamed just after the puckwudgie disappeared thanks to some mumbo jumbo Lily had conducted. He was hurt, bruised and broken. He noticed the stick that hung limply between her fingers._

 _He was in way too deep now. He stared back into those eyes. Heart stammering, fists clenching – this is why Winchesters never had good things._

 _The crack in his voice at what he had seen as a betrayal. The disgust he felt at himself for straying from his late wife's memory. The shame he felt for carrying on like he was a young buck as he had two sons to raise right. The guilt he felt for being the worst type of man for taking advantage of a young woman barely out of her teens. John felt every inch of that as he spoke._

 _She had told him just as brokenly: "John Eric Winchester, I was willing to love you. I'm sorry if I misled you in anyway."_

 _He didn't respond. He could not. Her gaze held him place and a part of him wondered if that monstrous thing she called magic was the thing holding him there._

 _ **We are currently going into hiding as the terrorist chasing after us could find us at any time. I believe you might be able to relate. We are being chased and tracked down by a madman. The closest term you have would be a terrorist. He and his supporters are killing everyone and anyone who either stands up to him or fall under certain categories many of them believe to be lower than dirt. It's not safe to write back to me. Should anything at all happen to me – please keep our son safe? Please. He is not a monster, neither am I and I hope you best remember that.**_

* * *

 **BACK THEN**

 **November 2003**

 **12 Grimmauld Place  
London, England, UK**

The werewolf peered at the innocuous stationary in his hands – eyes wide and body tense.

 **THE ANCESTRAL LINE OF THE LORD HEIR OF HOUSE POTTER**

Scanning past names that had no consequences, his eyes landed on the lines that made no sense whatsoever to him.

 _ **Lily Marigold (Evans) Potter x John Eric Winchester = Henry James Winchester**_

 _ **James Fleamont Potter & Lily Marigold Evans**_ = **Harry James Potter**

Honestly, it did not make sense. There were different colour lines of course. James and Lily's names were black ("Signifying that they are truly gone." Sirius had uttered bitterly) while the unrecognizable name beside Lily's name glowed white. The effect of the glow was the same with Harry's and this Henry's name.

"What the blazes?" Remus breathed. "If I'm reading this correctly it looks like Prongs blood adopted Harry. They only thing the same is Harry's middle name. Originally it seems that the magic recognized Harry as Henry James Winchester."

Sirius grunted. Remus blinked and placed the odd document down and reached for his cub's letter.

 _Padfood and Moony,_

 _I'm fine, don't worry. I'm also with friends – they're teaching me how to protect myself. I miss you both and I'm sorry I can't get out of hiding. I think it's better for everyone I stay where I am. I made these pendants for you both – they're for your protection._

 _They'll keep you safe from what hunts me. I'm not sure if I can keep calling you by your Marauder names. I don't think I can no longer hold that honour. I, I don't know if da-Prongs said anything or even mum. There goes my bravery with this, please don't be too harsh. If you need to send me a reply, my contact in Gringotts is the Commander of the Fourth Regiment._

 _Blackwing_

Remus noted how Harry signed off the letter with a raised brow. "It looks like he's studying how to become an Animagus."

Sirius downed another shot of whisky.

"After all this time," the werewolf breathed. "Did James say nothing to you about this? Surely, this cannot be." Remus Lupin whispered – his normally pale skin had waned looking like old parchment. "This – James would keep this from us?"

Sirius nodded as he downed another shot of Firewhiskey that no longer burned. Grey eyes dark as he stared darkly at the only true remaining Marauder. "Moony, Gringotts does not lie and Harry left this information for me to find. There's a reason our lad is staying underground apart from demons in Little Whinging. I even tried to contact him through the mirror but no bloody response."

"Has he used the mirror you left for him?"

Sirius shook his head.

"Sirius," Remus murmured then thought better for it. With a quick wave, he summoned the bottle his friend had half downed. Without missing a beat he drank straight from the bottle much to his best friend's disgruntlement. "Damn."

The curse word he let out wasn't because the alcohol burned. More so it was to air out his current frustration.

After a while Sirius took a turn of brooding introspection that the werewolf was becoming exceedingly more aware of.

"It hurts me most to admit that neither of them had the decency to let me - us know. Bloody war, divided the lines and it's warranted." Sirius stared emptily at his empty shot glass and the bottle his friend was now chugging. "Imagine what the rat would have done with that information. It is better they trusted goblins more than their closest friends. I need another drink _Accio Spare Firewhisky. Accio Spare, Spare Firewhisky._ "

Two bottles whizzed into the room through a now unlocked door before settling themselves with a neat snap on the table.

Sirius had stashed both bottles out of sight from Molly Weasley's formidable reach. She was brave yes but dared not go into Buckbeak's Lair. This was where both he and Remus were now located. The creature the room was for was already sleeping in the nest Sirius had made for him. Privacy charms all around so that whatever he and Remus ended up doing wouldn't disturb the creature.

"Cheers mate." Both men clinked and downed their shots of whisky even though Remus had concluded the first bottle. They were going to be well on their way to sloshed.

"The subtly worst part about this whole thing is that our boy is descended from about four separate lines of magic dissenters." Sirius drunkenly uttered. "It makes more sense to me now why Lily and James often clashed heads and why the Evans' family seemed to keep away."

Remus who could hold his liquor better than his friend could only shake his head. "I suppose this doesn't change our love for our cub?"

"Mr. Padfoot would like to remind Mr. Moony that family does not care for blood status."

"Mr. Moony drinks to that."

* * *

 **\- 04. Psycho –**

 **THEN**

 **June 14, 2004  
London Underground**

They stalked into the Muggle contraption with unassuming suitcases. Dora had picked up the muggle contraptions a few weeks back. Of course between the three of them (despite Ministry regulations) they were able to extend each to a certain degree with varying purposes. Remus' held all what was equivalent to the Black Library and then some.

This plan was as wildly harebrained as it went. Yet there they were – wearing clothes Dora insisted both men wear while they boarded the tube to get to the airport. It was going to be a long ride from now to where they needed to go.

Sirius had to hide of course, behind Muggle means. He had gotten his traditionally longer locks trimmed to a more refined fashion. His beard was also kept less "Mass Murderer on the Run" to "Refined Gentleman who may or may not have skeletons in his closet". His distinctive eyes were hidden behind muggle contact lenses that made them look bluer. He also wore a necklace that was etched with notice me not runes. This meant, anyone looking at him (muggle or magical) wouldn't look closely at him upon first glance. Not even Molly Weasley could recognize him and yes – they had tested it on her and a couple of the more astute members of the Phoenix as secretively as possible.

"This will be an adventure." Dora grinned playing the role of her cousin's sibling: she had changed her features to look more like her Black heritage. Indeed her face looked more elfin, her eyes more blue and her physique delicate.

"If by adventure you mean flying in a muggle aircraft and risking our lives, then perhaps." Sirius retorted looking to Remus who had only shook his head grimly. Remus out of the three of them was the hardest to convince in dressing in anything nicer.

"Stuff and nonsense Pads," Dora sighed. "I'm more worried about the Department. Is this the best course of action?"

There was a quiet between them. Their plan was simple enough: find Harry then afterwards figure out what else to do. The Dark Wanker and his followers weren't going to go away with a simple wave of laws and rules.

"We have a task to complete." Remus replied. In his neater clothes: khaki trousers, white button up and a crisp grey jumper and brown leather loafers. His flaxen hair greying at the sides was spruced up the muggle way and trimmed. Indeed, the academic werewolf bore the "Professorish" look (according to Sirius) well.

Sirius nodded as if having heard it before. "Find Harry, protect him and figure out a way to gain allies from across the pond to defeat the Evil Ponce." Collectively they sighed, shifted or slightly changed hair colour out of nervousness.

In the grand scheme of things: the trio made quite a normal sight, all things considered.

It was quite early in the morning and the tube was indeed less crowded. Between Remus and Dora – they had managed to surround themselves with protective spells. Mostly to have Muggles ignore them and to muffle their conversation.

The men were too nervous to speak whereas Dora had not the compunction.

"We will be alright, our research is sound enough. If the information we were able to take from the British Men of Letters is as it is then the first order is to find their hidden cache of knowledge. From there we can at least have a working headquarters to work out of to find our wayward Potter."

"Your optimism astounds." Sirius forced through gritted teeth. His cousin had the gall to smirk at him.

Remus sat patiently between them, counting the stops and focusing his nerves on following the timing of each passing platform. They would make it to their arrival station before making their way to the Muggle Airport with some ease.

"Kansas is still quite a way off and we will have to disembark in Toronto." Remus murmured. "Once we land, there is a distinct possibility that someone from the CCM or MACUSA will find us."

"Between those, I'd rather it was an Auror from MACUSA catch us than one of the Reds. The Reds are one the best trained forces outside China or Japan." Sirius sighed. "Of course we are going through the Canadian side so it is more than possible we may be caught by them."

Dora sighed. "Don't worry gents, my friend will help us once we land – remember she is going to act as _your_ (here she raised a brow at Sirius) fiancée. Evelyn has yet to let me down. Besides, the paperwork Dumbledore gave us will help."

"What is it this woman does again?" Sirius asked.

"She's an Unspeakable," Dora replied with a shrug. "Her muggle cover is that of a Technical Analyst for CCMIS. I met her through the Quill-Pal program at Hogwarts."

Both older men looked at her with frowns. "Hogwarts has a Quill-Pal program?"

"That was not in place while I was there." Remus uttered.

Dora shrugged. "It must have cancelled after Charlie and I graduated."

There was a shared moment of silence before the system overhead blared out their approaching stop. The younger woman smiled broadly. "This is us."

"Adventure Mr. Moony," Sirius groaned. "For us who are about to fly."

Remus only sighed in resignation following after his fellow compatriots after discretely cancelling their spells to enter the wild, chaos that was the Muggle world.

* * *

 **THEN**

 **June 18, 2004  
The Weasley Burrow **

You'd think that someone had died and in a way they had. Bill Weasley sighed looking at the frantic, worried motions of his mother. Her face pale, her eyes focused into some unknown distance even as she waved a careless hand towards the dishes.

"Mum," he finally murmured. The red haired matriarch glanced over at him. "Dad is protected, remember?"

Her lips were pursed. Bill had the distinct urge to run and hide as the familiar temper began showing upon her face.

"Mum," he tried again. "I – "

"William." Her voice was clear and strong. The weary, wary look in her gaze stilled whatever words of comfort he could offer her. "Check on your brother please."

Bill sighed and nodded. Ron had finally come home after a week at St. Mungo's. Prior to his stint there; he had spent three days at the Hogwarts' Infirmary in a coma. The attack at Hogwarts had been a harsh and eye-opening blow. Everywhere now – witches and wizards were implementing old protection tactics. Demon wards and sigils were being carved into doors or charms wherever possible. The Burrow had just been finished in being charmed above and beneath with as many protection symbols as possible. Some of them were even made by Bill using some notes that had come from the Granger girl.

The Weasley home was possibly more protected than Hogwarts or other places than the ministry itself. In fact, it was so well protected that the Order and its members were planning on using the grounds as a safe zone for Muggleborns and their families if things should go very poorly. From the way things were going – the Wizarding world was being attacked by the denizens of hell and The Dark Wanker.

Bill didn't let those thoughts enter his head as he clambered into his youngest brother's room. The redhead teen looked more than worse for wear. He'd been concussed and was still healing from the internal wounds the Demon had caused. He also had scared everyone for a while with his touch and go symptoms. As he walked into the room, he saw twin bodies already on either side of Ron. It was a sad day to see their faces so ashen and solemn.

"He just fell asleep." Fred began, "Sleeping potion." George added to Bill's unasked question. The eldest brother simply nodded. Both young men were sitting on chairs they had conjured stuffed where they could. Despite the already claustrophobic space; their eldest brother waved a wand with a worded spell. The room seemed to enlarge by about two metres. It was enough to squeeze a conjured love seat at the foot of the sleeping boy's bed. Without ado, Bill sat staring at Ron's sleeping face.

It was to this scene that Molly Weasley arrived. A muffled gasp and all three brothers turned to face her. She was covering her face with shaking hands. George who was closest to the door quickly ushered her into the room. Bill quietly pulled the gently crying woman into his arms. No one commented at how fragile she seemed at that moment. They sat there for some time until a silver lynx drifted into the room.

"Attack at the Ministry, all hands needed. He is here."

* * *

 **PRESENT**

 **Potter's Escape**

 **Unknown Location**

Harry was used to pain. He had lost track of the innumerable times he had been tossed about when he was at Hogwarts. The ripping, slick noise that came as he struggled through his bloodied bonds was nothing in comparison to other pains he had experienced over the past couple of months.

He did not condone the torture that this bastard was doing towards his brothers. How it happened, he would never know. Yet in the span of time they had been captured – it clicked in his mind – these two were his family. Having never had family to truly look after except the friends he had made at Hogwarts; he knew he had to do everything he could to protect them.

"You know for a Potter – a family of light, you are quite Black." Harry spat out.

Sam yelled as the asshole cut through his abdomen with a worded spell. Dean was fighting against the magic holding him in place with all his strength to no avail. Reuben had placed him under the petrification spell while ago.

The older wizard glared at the youngest brother through Sam huffing and puffing. It was only the distraction of a ghostlike fox that interrupted his gentle ministrations.

"Pappy," a disembodied female voice echoed. "The President is here to see you."

Reuben cursed. "Fuck that bitch, always at the worst time."

He slashed his wand – cutting all three brothers across the chest – causing two of them to cry out while Dean remained trapped in the spell. The older wizard disappeared from the room – leaving a soft glow of light from a door he didn't completely close. No one would be coming down here anyway. He re-warded the trap spells around the door he exited from. The bastards wouldn't be escaping any time soon. He disregarded his blood spattered robes as Ol' Pappy Reuben Potter stalked down the halls. The fox still following after him – the older wizard hissed instructions to the annoying thing. "Tell her Presidency that I am at my bath, she will have to wait."

The fox disappeared in a quick whispy trot.

He hated being interrupted. Hated it!

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_ I'm alive! I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I went through a massive author's block because something I wanted to happen sort of changed and characters were talking and life! No excuses, please hopefully this appeases. More to come and don't worry our boys will live. With scars, they'll live. Love, cheers, leave a review and thank you for sticking with me thus far.


	15. Mad World

**A Timely Interlude with Chuck**

Checking over the multitude of post its, notepads and even the blank screen staring up at him – Chuck felt himself sink slowly into a mini depression. He took a long drag of alcohol as he leaned back in his seat. He figured as he scratched out another plot point that no longer suited the tale. He certainly overcomplicated the plot a crap ton. Of course, it's all about timing from his perspective. Mind, Harry's presence in the Winchester's life most likely sped up his children's scheming.

"Writing sucks ass," he muttered. "Where the hell are we in the timeline?"

He glanced over at a document he had started making to keep track of certain events. It was littered with squiggles, some numbers and a few other events that could have happened elsewhere.

 _ **November 1987**_ **– John and Lily meet: consummate attraction, defeat puckwudgie, nearly kill each other, separate, Harry conceived**

 _ **March 3, 1988**_ **– Lily's letter**

 _ **June 2, 1988**_ **– Joh's Letter**

 _ **July 31, 1988**_ **– Harry born**

 _ **October 31, 1989**_ **– Last letter from Lily; Potters die, Harry with Dursleys**

 ** _September 1990_ \- Adam born**

 _ **Between 1996 – 1999**_ **– Harry starts saving money, learning about the Men of Letters and the Supernatural to a degree, Lily did not have many notes in journal, just history based on what her father gave her to pass down as a legacy, Harry knows more than he lets on**

 _ **August 1999**_ **– Harry visits Diagon Alley, has Lily's journal, finds out about his heritage, writes his first letter to John asking to be taken away from the Dursleys,**

 _ **September 1999**_ **– Bobby receives letter, John reads letter and goes away, Harry waits for a reply to no avail**

 _ **Late November 1999 to February 2000**_ **– Harrisons move to Little Whinging after escaping the Morrigan**

 _ **Summer 2000**_ **– Harry meets Nathan after his first year at Hogwarts, begins to help him with his projects; Mark sickly; events from Second Year reoccur**

 _ **Fall 2000 – Spring 2001**_ **– Second Year events occur as per norm; Harry starts getting interested in Runes**

 _ **Summer 2001 – Spring 2002**_ **\- Harry keeps busy researching runes with Third Year events occuring as per norm**

 _ **Summer 2002 – Fall 2002**_ **– Fourth year events occur as per norm**

 _ **November/December 2002**_ **– Dean finds photograph of Harry, confronts John, John leaves Dean at Bobby's, Dean writes Harry for the first time**

 _ **Winter 2002 – Spring 2003**_ **– Events of Fourth Year occur as per norm with Harry finishing nunchakus in between, finds out about Dean's possible background as a hunter, begins incorporating devil traps into his protective chain project, Ruben Potter finds out about Harry, starts a chain of events to look after the last true**

 _ **June 2003 – first week of August 2003**_ **– Harry wakes up shaken by the death of Cedric, reflects on his relationship with Dean, gets first cell phone, works on runic projects and figuring out other items, has an uneventful birthday, feels trapped by not hearing much from his friends**

 _ **August 2003 –**_ **Things go to hell; Dursleys die, Harrisons rescue Harry, on the run, Dobby and Harry get into contact therefore forming an informal Master-Servant bond, more research, running from the Morrigan**

 _ **Fall 2003 –**_ **Harry finishes protective chain project with medallions for select family and friends, gets tattooed, sends of medallions, does banking business, first hunt**

 _ **November 2003 –**_ **Sirius and Remus find out about Harry's true parentage after a few months of research for Dumbledore regarding Hunters and tracing activity, begins plotting subterfuge on the Men of Letters organization based on notes from Artemius Black**

 _ **Winter 2003 – Spring 2004**_ **– Harry learning how to hunt with Harrisons, learning more about his heritage as a Man of Letter, getting closer to Dean, Hogwarts crew have a horrid Fifth Year with demon toad professor, trying to figure out where Harry is and plotting demon toad professor's demise**

 _ **June 2004**_ **– Shit hits the fan again: Harry rescues Ron from demon toad professor, Ron's name nearly burns off from tattoo as magical side effect, The Morrigan, Harrison's die, Ron in slight coma, Harry tries to protect himself and Mark, makes a deal with Gabriel, makes plans to go to America, Harry feels as if his magic is lost**

 _ **June 2004**_ **– Sirius, Tonks and Lupin head to Canada in order to try to find Harry**

 _ **July 2004**_ **– Sam finds out about Harry finally, doesn't realize he's dating Jezebel Potter a planted spy by Ruben Potter who wants to take over as heir to the Potter accounts instead of this no-good blood adopted and rightful heir of the line who is also the -**

Chuck sighed. He may have missed a few details in the timeline. Especially around the Hogwarts' teens but there were greater and more important things to direct his attention to. Like figuring out this chapter…

* * *

 **\- 05. Mad World –**

 **July 10, 2004**

 **Union Square  
San Francisco, CA **

"Bobby, I'm here. Look I'm actually at Union Square now; been checkin' up on Sammy and getting into a case out by Hillsborough with Caleb." John muttered while simultaneously annoying Bobby with confirmation that the asshole had been keeping tabs on his wayward son regardless of the way they left it. "What does this Tino guy look like?"

"Don't know is the problem. Harry said to look for a guy wearing a '40s suit." Bobby replied.

John's scowled as he ended the conversation with: "I'll call you as soon as I spot anyone fitting that. Later."

Looking over the Square, he knew he had enough Intel to get an idea of the type of person he'd be looking for. After all, Harry's kind tried too hard to blend in. While he encountered many a witch or warlock – he realized quickly that there were plenty of them that had received magic from demonic influence or deals. He had had been very careful to differentiate all of them and had written some notes in a different journal about his findings.

Scanning around – he finally saw what he was looking for. Since it was mid-morning and just getting busy with the lunch hour; there were far too many people busy going about their day to see the elegant man in a well-tailored suit. While the gentleman in question had ruddy brown hair, freckles and wide lips – no one seemed to notice him except John directly. The guy was a walking pin-up for a 1945 film noir.

He blinked. What was he looking for again?

"Damn it." John hissed as he shook his head, feeling a slight headache at his temple. The magical just put up some kind of ward because he can't spot the man any more. He knew that if he even thought of looking for the man – he'd be turned around, forced to think of other things. He had encountered this multiple times over the years as he had searched for the type of communities that felt similar to the magic Lily had wielded. John couldn't get distracted, not now.

Walking stealthily – John quietly approached the general vicinity he had spotted the man. He stood stock still – within the general area before pulling up his phone. He had one of two ways to doing this and he knew that apart from shooting something (a sure fire way of getting attention and jail time); he'd have to do some "acting".

Looking out in front of him, he made a show of taking out his cell from his pocket. He pretended to tap a number of buttons before placing the machine to his ear. "Hey, Bobby – it's me. Look I can't seem to find them. I mean you said they were headed to Alcatraz right? Hm, yeah – Harry and the boys – right. Well it's about time I meet the kid. Look – I don't have to explain myself. I'm their dad. Don't tell me what to do here, they could be in danger. You said they'd be here at eleven-something? Looking for a Tino, Tony – what?"

John felt himself whirled around with a spin, hand flying and if he hadn't been so in tuned with his body; he could have very well lost his phone. He came face to face with the same man who had disappeared behind that weird magical mumbo-jumbo. There was a strong grip on his shoulder.

"Who are you?" The man hissed. John tried to shrug the hand on his left shoulder but failed. Pretending to say good-bye, John stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

"John Winchester, you Tino?"

The guy – Tino stared right through him as if he was a bug. "Look, I'm not – "

"I know what you are doing here." The magical wizard interrupted. "While I do not understand Mr. Potter's unfortunate reasoning – you are an anomaly Mr. Winchester."

"Well, if you were listening – " John began but was cut off with a loud pop and suddenly the older man felt he was being pulled through a tube. His insides being squeezed through his brain and nostrils or at least that's what it felt like. Lily had never done this to him but he had seen her do something like this before. If this is what it felt like – he had no more time for thought.

"What is the meaning of this now?"

"Grandfather," Tino growled. "This one was there instead of Mr. Potter – what was I supposed to do?"

John was in the middle of regaining his sense of balance. The former marine was still grappling with the inner workings of his stomach. Hurling through time and space had jostled parts of himself he didn't want to think about.

"Porpentino," the older voice John placed as "Grandfather" had a distinctly British lilt. The hunter finally regained his bearings. Concerned agate green eyes stared through him. The man before him was wiry, wrinkled as if he smiled more than frowned with scraggly snowy hair across his head. His skin was also a litany of freckles despite the fairly proper suit and jacket combination he wore. In his hand was – a green leafy creature that seemed to look at him curiously. John blinked wondering what the hell that thing was.

"Grandfather," Tino sighed. "I'm sorry – I know you're working with bow truckles as per usual but please. This one isn't supposed to be here."

The older man grumbled even though he looked at the creature in his hand. "You behave now you hear? You stay with your siblings now. Oh bother. (The creature seemed to quake and just scampered into the old man's vest pocket.) Well now, come along you two. May as well have some tea and have you notified your superiors you are here? Also – mind letting the poor chap go? He can walk on his two feet."

"Wait," John interrupted. "I'm not sure what is going on here but I'm looking for my sons."

The older man's gimlet gaze struck the hunter once more. "Tino, what sort of trouble are you bringing to my door?"

"He is a _**scourer**_." Tino hissed, tightening the squeeze on John's shoulder. There was a moment, a distinct hiss in the air as if electricity was shooting about him.

"Would this scourer have a name?" The older man raised his brow.

"Winchester, John Winchester."

Another long stare before the older man seemingly shrugged his shoulder. "Well as long as he isn't a Graves. Come along, tea is waiting and please do let go of his shoulder. I know your grip is quite firm lad but there are better things to hold on to."

* * *

 **PRESENT**

 **July 12, 2004  
Wolf, Kansas**

It had brought great joy to Sirius' face when they first moved to the comfortable old farm outside of Wolf, Kansas. Really it should have been expected. Dora just sighed. The man was incorrigible even after years of exposure to dementors. Remus was equally sly in his amusement of the place. Still it was home for now as they went about tracking down anything to do with the Men of Letters stateside as well as Harry.

Their only visitor was Dora's friend from Canada.

"Evelyn sends her regards." Sirius grinned. "She says you should call more."

Dora rolled her eyes even as she flipped a page in the large tome before her. The past few weeks had been tense. They had been keeping track of the events overseas. The Dark Lord had finally attacked the Ministry of Magic and people were fleeing. Already their primary mission was being put on hold as the trio scrambled to see how they could even assist. It had only been luck that they had left when they did. Sirius slid into the seat beside her. His grey eyes took in the mountains of parchment and books. His cheerful demeanor vanishing as he saw the items the Metamorphagus was researching.

"Have you heard back from the Weasleys?"

Dora looked over at her cousin. She shook her head sadly. "The last time I spoke with Charlie over the mirror was a week ago. They just went into hiding somewhere in Belarus."

"That is something." Sirius nodded. "Oi, where's Moony?"

The brilliant pink of the auror's hair turned a sombre mahogany. Dora pursed her lips. "Where do you think?"

No words were exchanged as Sirius stood up. Without any further words he stalked off in search of his friend. The last Marauder was in the one place they had all quietly called Moony's Cave. It wasn't really. It was more like they had renovated the cellar of the old farm house to hold the wolf's transformations. They had only brought with them enough Wolfsbane Potion to last a year.

Depending on how long they were going to be here – Sirius had a feeling his wolfy friend would be forgoing some potions just to make it last. A stupid thing since he was friends with a wealthy Lord of the House Black.

"It is as secure as it is going to be Moony." Sirius looked at the forlorn figure of his last remaining friend. "You also know that under Wolfsbane – "

"I can't rely on that potion every time Sirius." Remus sighed. "There will always be times of emergency and we're in America now. They see werewolves as lesser beings out here than even in Britain. Scourers out here don't even hesitate to eradicate."

The two men stared at each other deeply. The darker haired man sighed, conceding to Remus' assessment. That changed of course when they heard Dora yell for them. The two men left the werewolf's safe hold. They couldn't seem to run fast enough. Sirius even let out a loud groan when he felt his arm come into contact with a sharp corner of wall.

"Tonks!" Sirius shouted. "Tonks! What the blazes!"

A small wrinkly creature stood before his cousin seemingly wringing its hands. What was a house elf in their humble abode? More importantly…"How the hell did you get in here?"

 **-** _ **corrigenda**_ **–**

Dean was in so much pain. The agony of it was beginning to tug on the part of his mind that wondered if death was a good option. He had known that Harry was magical. He also knew that bad things happened to Winchesters. This was on a different level of not-so-good.

With his eyes he looked to his left first to Sam. Sammy was glaring daggers at the door. The clench of the jaw was there – kid still had fight left in him. Good. To the right, he felt internally his heart clenching. Harry was a bloody, freaking mess. He didn't know where the blood ended or where his kid brother began.

The moment he got out of this creepy as fuck dungeon: the old man was going down.

Meanwhile, Sam was compartmentalizing everything that had happened to him. His ex-girlfriend had been a con. His entire time away for what he thought was normalcy made him want to kill the freaks holding him and Dean here. He barely flickered to see his supposed younger brother.

This wasn't the kid's fault, Sam knew that. He wasn't going to blame Harry for the pain and torture all of them were going through. He knew it was whoever Old Man Potter was. He had noted while the guy was waving around that fancy stick he used words that sounded like broken pig-Latin.

One thing was clear while Sam was very uncertain about having a witch in the family: Harry didn't give out the creepy vibes. Not that the middle Winchester boy trusted his intuition. So far his gut feelings had been utterly shit.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** We're getting there, explanations slowly taking shape! I know this one is a shorter one, been busy with life things as you may notice. Now some responses; something I'm trying not to do too much for this fic so that y'all can enjoy it more.

To the **Guest** who said the fic was good up until Dursleys were dead and that the time jumps were too many as well as the plotting too vague; thank you for your honesty! I appreciate it, will be clearing up things soon enough.

To **anthea tronchard step** – I'm uncertain about romance in this apart from the slight HP/GW or RW/HG/RW hinting in _**Ab Initio**_. I'm all good with slash for certain but we may not see much of that in this fic. Of course I can say one thing and then do another; it happens. As for a death angel Harry – things are complicated enough without Harry Stu getting super powered; apologies, thank you for your review though.

To **wolfwaken, orionastro, D** and **Vengeance-Angel2010:** Thank you for your reviews, they're life.

Otherwise, thank you for still sticking around – reviews are very welcome, please point out plot holes or areas of confusion; I need feedback (good or bad)! Until next chapter, ja ne!


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